Seer
by Payprklip
Summary: Kialandí's daughter was never destined to be ordinary. The daughter of an elfin Dragon Rider and a Human blessed with the gift of Foresight, it was unlikely that she would ever escape the clutches of the Empire - and having been raised by Galbatorix himself, would she even want to? Rated T for violence and bad language, may change in later chapters. Possible MurtaghxOC later on.
1. Chapter 1 - Beginning

The young woman's screams shattered the air with a battering intensity. It seemed like the atmosphere would shimmer with each cry as though the weight of the woman's pain was too much to carry. The darkness that had closed in in the hours that she had been in labour was unnaturally incomplete – as though the sun couldn't decide whether it wanted to shine or not. It was early evening after all and by all rights the light should have faded much more by this point. As it was, the bed chamber had a sort of hazy appearance; it was there but not a reality. All the light seemed to flee from one corner as though something that should not have been was expelling it with deadly force and the shadow that moved slightly within had a dark auma.

The thin, white hands that gripped the thick, wooden bed posts didn't help the appearance of a black and white scene either. Another shriek ensued and the hands clenched; tendons standing in high relief and straining at their human restraints. At her cry, the shadow wavered, a sigh in the still wavering air. It seemed as though it was growing bored with waiting for something to happen.

"Lady...push again. It's nearly over." The otherwise unseen maid kneeling with a cloth to her mistress' head spoke urgently, a moan punctuating her statement. She'd been saying the same thing for nearly an hour now.

* * *

It was only later, when the sun had finally decided to evacuate and the light had dissipated completely that the first stirrings of a newborn could be heard in the estate. The woman gave a final sob and then lay heavily on the bed while her maid fussed over a tiny baby that refused to make a sound. Large, blue eyes simply stared up at the servant solemnly while breaths came in tiny pants – as though it, not the mother, had just been working hard.

"A girl, lady." Came the quiet murmur.

The new mother tried weakly to lift her pale arms. "Give her...please...give her to me..."

Regretfully, the maid looked over to the shadow and failed to suppress a shiver.

The shadow smirked.

Looking back at her mistress, the maid shook her head. "You're too weak, lady."

"Please!" The woman too looked for the shadow, "You promised...you _swore_ my child would not be taken away from me!"

The shadow emerged and leered at the woman.

"I lied."

And then Galbatorix, self-proclaimed king of Alagaësia took the child and left the room – now empty save for the dead mother, her dead servant and the ringing of the Ancient Language in the air.


	2. Chapter 2 - Sight

**Author's Note: Hey guys :) Just to settle any confusion, ****Kia****landí **in this story is MALE. I know some people imagine the character as female, but Inheriwiki writes him as being a MALE dragon rider bonded to a purple dragon. Anyway, this chapter took me frickin' _ages _to write - just a kind of introduction to our character's life. One last thing, the 'Aa' sound you'll see later on is pronounced like 'Ar'. Enjoy :)

* * *

_Seventeen years later..._

A flash of white light blinded her vision with a 'whoosh' and when it cleared she was standing in a dim corridor. The scene had an odd orangey glow around the edges; the colour standing out in high ridges and throwing up flickers. Pale straw littered the dusty floor and torches lined the stone walls at regular intervals, their flames dancing with murderous intent and casting alien shadows. The air was musty with the dust that should have been cleaned by the servants that surely worked here but no one was around. With her heightened eyesight she could pinpoint every one of the tiny specks jolting around her and could probably have caught one had she the will.

Another flash and she was halfway down the same corridor. The shadows before her that had previously sheltered the unknown now parted and allowed her to see a squat wooden door decorated with iron diamonds. The heavy iron ring that served as the handle was mottled with rust, signalling damp was getting in from somewhere – probably from one of the many cracks around the mortar that held the single, dark window. It too was decorated with iron; the metal crisscrossing over the glass pane without particular skill. Here also the fire of rust lounged.

No, she had definitely never been here before.

Then, out of the darkness behind her, came a woman. Dark hair was wrapped up in a twist above a tanned, unlined face. Brown eyes bore at her devilishly and a dagger that had already seen use (by the looks of the crimson droplets dripping off the blade) was clutched tightly in one hand. If she could have screamed, she would have – but the assassin didn't show any sign of having seen her. In fact, she continued past silently, sliding towards the door like a dry snake. A short cape flapped behind her in an eerie calm, betraying its wearer's deadly prowess. One more flash and suddenly both women were standing at the door – the assassin with her hand raised to knock.

The orange glow intensified, the sparks heightening.

The door opened silently and a man just as squat as his door appeared. He had a ruddy face and sported more than one chin – these wobbled in surprise as the assassin raised the dagger and struck him squarely in the chest.

Blood spurted forth with ample intensity.

The glow exploded.

Aalina awoke with a scream.

She felt the magic burst from her body but was powerless to stop it. A band of blue light shot out horizontally around her, hitting the window with such force that glass shattered and the curtains erupted in flames. The priceless vase that always stood on _that pedestal_ was knocked sideways and exploded, throwing shards of clay shrieking across the floor and into the pile of parchment. She screamed again as the papers were sent cajoling into the air, a second band of magic reducing them to ashes. Aalina threw up an arm to protect her bare face from the searing heat radiating from the blazing curtains and sobbed as she forced herself to quench the next spurt of magic.

"Lady!" The soldiers that were always stationed outside her rooms kicked open the door with booted feet and ran to her bedside, naked swords flashing.

She heaved a breath and forced herself to lower her arm. Their faces reflected the same fear that she felt but somehow one of them managed to heave up and bat out the flames on the remnants of the curtains. The sudden disappearance of roaring in her ears had a tranquil effect on Aalina's mind, and, upon finding she could think once more, she slowly turned her face to the frightened soldiers. Forcing her trembling hands to still by clenching them into tiny fists, she slid one of her oh-so-easy fake smiles into place on her lips.

"I'm fine."

"Are you -"

"I'm quite sure, thank you, captain. You may go."

Really they should have been used to her dreams by now. She didn't blame them though, because how could she expect them to be calm and brave when she was not? _She _who was half elf, half human. _She_ who had been raised by the king of Alagaësia to expel all emotion that did not make her stronger. _She _who had seen things no ordinary person should ever see.

"Do you want us to fetch -"

"I said I'm fine!" She snapped at them angrily, pushing the captain away with one small hand. Her shove was more powerful than had intended and the well-built man sprawled backwards with wide eyes. He recovered quickly and jumped up, exiting her bed chamber quickly along with his brother-in-arms. Usually the sight would have shamed her but she couldn't spare thoughts for them now.

She had to see the king.

* * *

Striding through the darkened corridors, Aalina wished she had thought to don at least more than a thin green cloak. The night air was chill on her skin and the only protection she had was from the white chemise that had been designed for warmer nights. Oh well, couldn't be helped now. And it wasn't as if she was scared of showing off her body for any who wished to see it. Not that _he _would be looking at her body. Hewould be more interested in what she had to say to him than anything else. He would be awake – of that she was sure. It was as though he never went to sleep.

She wished she could do that. The 'gift' that had been passed to her from her human mother was nothing more than a hindrance in Aalina's eyes. Every time she went to sleep she was plagued by the dreams that chilled her to the core. Not all of them were visions of murder, but all of them came true – that was, unless she ensured certain measures were put in place to prevent them. And that was what she was doing now.

Her 'uncle' was kind to her. He gave her presents and dined with her, rode with her and throw banquets in her honour. But the one thing he required was that every time she saw, she informed him. He told her that her gift was to be used to optimum capacity but made sure she never really understood what that meant. She was left to her own devices most of the time – although if she ever wanted otherwise she knew with a certainty that he would be quick to administer her a household of servants and suitors. He didn't force her to sleep when she didn't want to and didn't care that she spent many nights awake, forsaking sleep in favour of roaming the castle or the city – he only cared that when she saw, he was the first and only person to know exactly what it was.

His door was highlighted with a warm glow that signalled the light within. Only she and a small host of other high-placed servants were allowed in his personal chambers and she saw this as a shame, because they were really quite...magnificent.

"Enter." Came the deep reply when she knocked. He knew it was her – he always did. There was no point trying to shield her mind from him so she never bothered. It wasn't as if he was her enemy anyhow – he was anything but. She smiled and pushed the wood gently (which, unlike what one would expect from a dark king, did not creak as it swung open).

He was sitting in a high backed chair by the fire, a goblet in his hand and a table scattered with papers by his side. A sight she had seen many times in her life, and a sight she knew would continue to appear to her. He looked up as he heard her light step in the threshold, holding her distance as a respectful member of his castle would. Hooded black eyes watched her in a calculated manner, matching his cropped black hair and thick black cloak.

"Lady Aalina. I trust to see you well." It was not a question for he already knew the answer. She wondered if there was anything that he didn't know.

"My king." She clamped a fist to her chest and jerked her head by way of a bow. "I have seen..."

He smiled and gestured for her to come nearer. Obviously he had known why she had come – why else would she be here? Not one to defy orders, Aalina approached and knelt gracefully at his feet, clasping her hands in her lap neatly.

"Lord Cruidel will be assassinated at some point in the near future." She never knew when exactly things would happen but she always had a rough sense of time. Just like she knew whether her dreams were of the past, present or future – for she could see all three.

Galbatorix leaned his head back to his chair and drank slowly from his goblet.

"Where?"

"I am uncertain, my king. An estate...possibly his. I have never seen it before."

"Who?"

She paused, and then replied: "A woman...one of the Varden I am sure."

He nodded graciously.

"Naturally."

His voice was honey and sugar and washed over her like a warm blanket. She wanted to hear it all day and night, to never leave, to -

Casting a mental block around her mind, she cursed herself for slipping. His voice did tend to have that effect on people – she should have known better. It was how he commanded such respect from his followers – of which there were many.

She watched him deliberate a moment more and then stood to leave when she was sure he would not respond again. Such instances were common – his mind was constantly whirring with plans and ideas.

"Aalina." He stopped her with a word and she half turned back at the door.

"My king?"

"Thank you – you have done well. Again."

She smiled at his praise, heart glowing. She loved it when people told her how well she had done. Another gift would be arriving at her door tomorrow morning as it always did when she saw. He knew how much she hated her sight and sought to reward her each time she suffered.

Her life was good.


	3. Chapter 3 - Boredom

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reviewing and following! Means a lot :) This chapter is kind of a filler, sorry. I was originally intending to make it a little more interesting but it took its own course :) WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL THEMES/REFERENCES**

Aalina was bored. She sighed and looked up from the scroll she had been reading after having stared at the same line for a full five minutes and turned her head to gaze out of the open window. Ten minutes ago she'd repeated this exact action, and, upon finding nothing interesting to watch, returned her waning attention to the scroll.

The cushion beneath her was too plush and the clothes she was wearing made her shift uncomfortably. She was jealous of the men in their thin shirts and loose tunics – especially when the weather was like this. Wearing a tight corset and heavy skirts was no fun when the sun was beating down on the land like an unrelenting barbarian. Being part-elf she had a higher resistance to extreme weathers than most others in this place, but at the moment the sun was proving to be a mighty adversary. For the last hour she'd been contemplating stripping down and lounging in the nude, but should anyone see her through the window or enter her rooms unannounced...no. It was frustrating, especially since most of the men training outside had removed their shirts while she had to sit and watch.

Normally, she wouldn't have objected to men taking their shirts off...but now she was too hot and bothered to care about them. She'd already seen the countless soldiers and their torsos any number of times and watched them showing off when they saw her through her window. It amused her that they would think she cared about them, but she laughed and applauded them all the same – it was better to let them think they had a chance than watch them turn their attentions to some other maiden.

Unconsciously, she fanned her sticky face with a pale hand in effort to try and waft some cool air over her skin. However, she only succeeded in forcing humidity to slide over her, so she stopped. She gave another sigh and tried in vain to come up with a brilliant idea to reduce her boredom. Most days had her thus. She never did anything. Just sat and read scrolls or brushed her hair and fought sleep. Sometimes she'd go out and train with her tutor if she could be bothered to find him, or ride one of her many horses if she could be bothered to tell someone to saddle one. Nothing ever happened. All she ever did was wait until she was too tired to stay awake and then collapse into the visions until she awoke, screaming and setting things on fire.

The only things that amused her while she was awake were the looks on the nobles' faces as she flirted shamelessly with them. Occasionally she would relent and take one to her bed, but they were all the same – boring and simpering. They would tell her how beautiful she was and give her presents and try to gain her favour so they could get closer to the king. She didn't care for the workings of court or take part in any backstabbing schemes – though she was asked to many times. No, they all bored her – save one.

She could see him now, swinging the heavy sword like it was made of cotton. The sunlight glinted off of its red blade and ruby-set pommel while he killed five imaginary Varden soldiers with a look of utter boredom on his handsome face. He too had removed clothing, and stood alone, shunning all who came near him. Many times had she seen him in and around the castle, sometimes with her father, sometimes with his dragon – sometimes in her chambers, her bed, his chambers, his bed. He was the only one who never told her she was beautiful. He was the only one who never have her presents. He was the only one who never tried to gain her favour or the king's. He was the only one who never told her she owned his heart and mind. He was the only one who simply took her because he was just as bored as she was. He was the only one who entertained her enough to keep coming back.

Perhaps she would go to him later – or he would come to her. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight anyway; too scared of the visions and her reactions as she was. It was odd that both were of the night – rarely sleeping and constantly roaming the corridors at night – while she was the only one who suffered from nightmares.

Or was she?

Abruptly, she was pulled from her emotionless musings when one of her guards knocked on the door.

"My Lady?"

"Yes." It was difficult to keep her boredom out of her voice."

"A gift for you."

"Yes."

He entered and looked around to see her sitting on the window seat. Behind him was a terrified maid carrying a deep blue dress.

"F-from the k-king, M-m-my Lady." She stuttered, "He h-hopes you'll wear it t-t-to the b-ball tonight."

There was a ball? She had forgotten. Of course, this was a gift from him to thank her for her vision last night. She didn't even bother to look at it, knowing it would be quite exquisite – as all his gifts were. When it came to her, money was no expense in his mind. She never objected but she wished he would stop – she had so many things she had almost run out of space to keep them all.

"Put it in the wardrobe. Tell him he has my honoured thanks and that I'd love to wear it to the ball." Her robotic response came back. The maid curtsied shakily and did as she was ordered. Aalina watched her leave, objectively knowing that all the servants here were terrified of her. Having been taught by Galbatorix himself – why would they not be? Foolish, pathetic little humans. They would whither and die while she would remain beautiful forever.

And ever.

And ever.

And ever.

Alone here and bored.

Forever.

And ever.

And ever.

Well. Not exactly alone...Murtagh and Galbatorix would be here too. The farm boy too if the kind managed to capture him in the end – which she did not doubt he would. There were none who could withstand his might.

She was glad to be on the right side.

* * *

Later the maids arrived to help her get ready for the ball that she'd forgotten about. She always forgot about them – there were so many. The king liked to show off his power and wealth – liked to see his loyal servants bowing before him. Sometimes she even thought he basked in their love for him, like a drug. He was addicted to their adoration, just like the men in the opium dens were addicted to the dreamy highs that came with the musty smoke.

She was silent as the young women with less physical presence than daffodils guided her arms into the sleeves of the dress and tightened the corset. Again she could barely breathe – but she was used to it. It wasn't as if she'd never worn the heavy materials before. The one thing she had to thank was the fact that the evening had brought with a cool breeze that soothed her irritated skin and made for perfect weather.

She was silent too, as the women styled her raven black hair into a loose bun at the back of her head. Several curled strands were free around her face and down her back, falling to her waist. She'd inherited most of her features from her father – or so Galbatorix was constantly telling her. She wouldn't know – he'd been killed by Brom four months before her birth so she'd never met him. Her mother too was gone. Galbatorix said she'd died in childbirth, the toll it had taken proved too much for her. Apparently the healers tried everything to save her, but it was not to be. Aalina wished that her mother was still alive because maybe then she'd have someone to teach her about her 'gift' and show her how to sleep without letting them in. She knew it was possible but she'd never managed it herself.

Her silence continued as light make-up was brushed over her already perfect features so that hers eyes were lidded with dark skin and her cheeks were flushed pale pink. The maids chatted around her as they fussed but not once did she respond, too bored to reply to their insignificant talk. They were used to her rudeness and elfin nature. Sometimes she'd smile and laugh and dance and joke and flirt, but other times she'd be as stone, silent and bored and contemplating. Everyone knew that once she entered this state, there was nothing to be done that could bring her out of it until she was finished.

Suddenly she stood, too quickly for them to pull away. The brushes they'd been painting her with clattered to the floor along with the exclamations of surprise that fell like lead weights from their lips. Without a word of thanks or explanation, she drifted away from them and left for the Great Hall that was where all the balls were held. On her way out she passed a full length mirror – one that had been shattered and repaired by her countless times. She saw her slim figure garbed in a long, royal blue dress that was stitched with silver thread. Dark hair matched dark lids and emphasised her pale skin while her relatively short height (for an elf) was added to with heels. She wasn't delighted by her beautiful appearance, simply bored. Her large eyes weren't slanted like they were supposed to be – though her cheekbones were high and her ears were pointed.

Boring.

* * *

In the morning all she would remember were flashes.

Murtagh, sitting with a goblet of wine in his hand that was never empty and a permanent expression of boredom plastered on his features. She watched the many women swirling around him, giggling and flirting and hoping for his approval – though not once did he give it. Next to him was the king, smirking at the attention his newest servant was receiving and then smiling broadly as one of the bolder serving maids plopped themselves in his lap, giving an unashamed view of her bosom. The young man sighed and fiddled with her hair while staring at nothing, not bothering with the effort it took to remove her.

Countless young nobles risking their pride by asking her to dance and their shattered faces as she refused them all. She giggled at her game, amusing herself by making up stories about them and catching Galbatorix's eye as he sat by her side, Murtagh at his other. He was amused that she was teasing them all so – he much preferred it when she would dance and sing and entertain them all, but her delight at her own games seemed to infect him.

The wine in her hand never disappeared, no matter how much she drank.

Bawdy jokes with bawdy men.

Murtagh sighing as the maid slipped a hand beneath his jerkin and teased his abs.

Finally relenting and letting an unknown lord's son lead her in a courtly dance.

Watching Murtagh give in to the boredom and lead the maid away in the early hours of the morning to his chambers.

Pretending to be shocked when the man she was dancing with suggested that they do the same but leading him away anyway, hours after the Rider and their king had left with their respective maids.

Faking moans and pleasure for the man's ego.

* * *

When she woke up her head was resting on the man's bare chest and his warm arm was wrapped around her. With nothing to hide, she slipped into some clothes and left without waking him, not caring if he searched her chambers. All he would find would be scrolls he could not read.


	4. Chapter 4 - Unsure

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry about the wait! I'm doing my GCSEs at the moment and I've had loads of revision to do I'm sorry! :( But I took a cheeky bit of time out to write this for you :) This is the chapter where the story properly starts so enjoy :)**

* * *

One_ year later..._

Galbatorix was in a rage again. The Varden had captured the city of Melian after only a few hours of fighting – and more than half of the city had surrendered straight away. It wasn't so much the military defeat that angered the king so, it was the humiliation of knowing yet more of his subjects were differing and he didn't really know what to do about it.

That scared Aalina. Because not once, in her whole life, had the king not known what to do.

Still, the fear was what fuelled her these days. She had so little to live for...another year of nothing. She had offered to join Galbatorix's forces many times, and many times had he refused her. She was too valuable as a seer for him to risk losing her on the field of battle – besides, she was much more useful in the castle, where she could find him easily and waste no time telling him of her visions.

She supposed it was also so that he could keep an eye on her.

She wasn't sure why, but lately she'd been getting the feeling that he didn't quite trust her.

But such thoughts weren't being thought about right now. Because, right now, she was seeing.

Flash.

Standing outside, wind whipping but no sound. She could see the castle of Urû'baen in front of her, and the bundles lying by the moat that signaled another beggar hoping for a scrap to be thrown their way. She could see herself too, from the back, orange glow dancing in her own outline. She was standing next to the king and waiting for the portcullis to be lifted to that they could enter the castle and get out of the wind that was violently attacking their cloaks and hair. For Aalina's real self, the wind had no effect.

Suddenly, the wind ripped off her dream-self's cloak and dragged it back towards the city. With a silent cry, dream-Aalina turned back to watch it go, seeming not to notice it burning up with orange glow. She stopped dead when she saw the half-dead beggar-woman standing lopsidedly at the end of the draw-bridge. A tiny bundle was writhing in her arms.

Flash.

Aalina was standing behind her dream-self, looking over her shoulder as she knelt by the beggar woman who lay on the floor. Galbatorix was standing next to her in much the same way. The beggar woman was gripping dream-Aalina's arm and saying something with a fierce expression, but no sound came out. Galbatorix stirred, but then the woman stiffened and moved no more. Dream-Aalina looked up at her guardian with fearful eyes and clenched the bundle that the beggar-woman had given her close to her body.

Flash.

A tiny boy was dancing in a garden. Orange glows heightened on the rose-bushes but he didn't see them...he just laughed silently and twirled in a circle. He was maybe one or two and dressed in fine clothes – he must have been the child of a nobleman. Quickly, he lost his balance and ended up sitting on the floor, still laughing.

Then he looked straight at her, smiled, and picked a daisy that was growing in the grass while the glow exploded.

"No!"

She woke with a hand flying out to the dream-child, desperately trying to save him from the explosion. The glass in her mirror cracked with a sharp 'clink', and then everything was quiet. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was streaming in through the open window, casting long lines of contrasting shadow and brightness on the floor and walls. It was the height of summer, so she found herself a little too hot in her tight corset – and assumed she'd fallen asleep lying atop her bed. Outside, the soldiers were busy running around and swinging their swords in yet another pointless drill that Lord Barst insisted on. She could hear their desperate pants from her room (sometimes she did curse her advanced hearing and sight); unfortunately smelling their sweat too.

Wrinkling her nose, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and took a few breaths (through her mouth) to compose herself.

"My lady?" One of the guards called through the door.

"I'm fine." She replied, a little more subdued than she would usually be.

She was about to leave to find the king, when she paused.

_Why? Why should he know? _

She remained where she was, standing frozen between her bed and the door, not knowing why the sudden change had come upon her, but certain that telling her guardian would be a bad idea. So certain...

_But why? Why would it be bad? It's never been bad before..._

Always she got presents when she saw and praise and banquets. But this time – although she knew she would get those things, she felt a sort of niggle in the back of her mind that told her bad things would happen if she spoke of what she had seen.

What if he found out? What if he found out that she'd seen and punished her for not telling him? She'd seen how cruel he could be...and while he had never taken his wrath out on her, she'd seen him torturing Murtagh many times – often for now reason. She assumed he was just angry...

She didn't want to be on the receiving end of that.

But then...

She'd never been afraid of the king. Never trembled when he looked at her or begged his forgiveness when she'd said something she really shouldn't have. He'd never given her cause to doubt that she was safe in the castle and always would be – safe from the rebel scum, and safe from his temper.

She'd have to make sure word of her vision never reached him. A fever gripped her mind. The_ child. _She must protect the child. Whoever he was...if she told someone about what she'd seen, he'd been in danger. Aside from her, her guards were the only ones who knew about her most recent dream. And while they were unlikely to tell the king, it was still a risk that she was not prepared to accept. What she did next was something that she'd only ever done a few times, and only because she'd been told to by her tutor – practice, he said. Practice for what she didn't know. Always the action repulsed her, but for the child she would do it – to protect the dream-child that she'd never met and probably never would.

Aalina turned from the door and settled herself lightly on the edge of her bed; being a half-elf meant that she was so light she barely made a dent. Closing her eyes, she stretched her consciousness out to the two guards by the door. She sensed them as dull lights – not particularly clever and definitely unimportant. But they were still people and she was about to change them and that was wrong. The king would never tell her it was wrong... but it was. Neither of the men had any sort of magic so her touch in their minds went undetected. She was gentle, sifting through their most recent memories with uttermost care, and then taking what she wanted. She tugged at the memories gently, until their ties loosed and the bonds sagged – then she was free to pull them away, into her own mind: and burn them.

When she was done, she shuddered delicately. She had done something she hated for a mere child and she didn't even know why. She hoped it was the right thing, hoped that she wasn't just over reacting. Maybe she was tired and -

No.

If she thought like that she'd end up throwing up all over the carpet.

* * *

It was early evening when she found herself whispering down a corridor. She'd grown bored of sitting in her room and worrying about her actions, so she'd taken to wandering instead. As always, she'd managed to lose her guards in the first few minutes and was alone as she turned yet another corner. She'd lived in the castle all her life and had rarely been allowed outside of it. Unlike Murtagh, she'd never had the chance to escape and experience life outside the capital for a few months. It wasn't that she wanted to flee and join the Varden, it was just that she wanted a little excitement in her life. She'd wandered these halls too many times to remember. She'd never get lost and she'd always lose her guards in the maze.

She hated being followed. The idea that these men would accompany her everywhere and constantly be watching her made her writhe uncomfortably. It was almost as though she were a prisoner in her own...well. Not home. Whatever this place was to her, it certainly wasn't a home. It was more of a prison.

A shadow moved in front of her and she jumped, sliding a dagger from where it was concealed in her bodice.

The shadow laughed.

"Oh, it's you."

"Getting a little jumpy, aren't we?" Murtagh replied.

"Only when you're around." She winked.

"Surely it should have been me to say that?"

"You were too slow – as usual."

"So first to flatter me, then you insult me...bored?"

"I'm always bored." Her tone was icy, losing the playful mood. Murtagh leant against a pillar and crossed his arms.

"Only asking. You don't need to get all..."

"All what?"

He sighed. "Can't think of the right word."

"Go back to your sulking."

He laughed again. But his laughs were never proper laughs. They were hard, cold. Like all the life had left him. Like what he was laughing at wasn't really funny,

"I wasn't the one sulking."

"No, you were the one sneaking and ready to jump on the next woman who came round the corner."

"You make me sound like Lord -"

"Barst, yeah."

He raised an eyebrow.

"But unlike him, I don't settle for clap infested -"

"Thanks, but that's enough of that description."

"I hate it when you -"

"Interrupt, I know."

He scowled and pushed himself off the pillar, drawing closer.

"You're bored, I'm bored. You've ditched your guards and I never had any. I wonder what we can do to pass the time..."

* * *

**Just a quick question: because I don't really know what kind of story you guys want this to be, I left Murtagh and Aalina's scene there. Please tell me in your reviews if you want this scene to continue in the next chapter - it won't get too explicit (i.e. sex scene) but they'll end up in a bedroom and the sex will be implied... If you don't want it to happen just say :) Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Night

**Author's Note: I'm sooo sorry! My laptop completely broke so I had to wait to get a new one in order to update and had to re-write this chapter which was lost! Please forgive me! Anyways, I've got a new one now so hopefully I should start updating more regularly. In your reviews the responses to my 'shall I continue the scene' question were iffy at best, so I decided not to continue from where we left off. This chapter begins in the middle of the night. Some people wanted me to try and develop the character relationship between Aalina and Murtagh so I've tried to add in a little extra here. Don't worry - this is only the beginning for them so there is a whole lot more to come! Please review :)**

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That night was strange for Aalina. It wasn't the dark or the strong arms wrapped around her that were unusual or the lack of any kind of sleep at all. It was the half-awake, half-asleep state that she experienced that she'd never had before.

She lay in the dim, resting on Murtagh's chest, in what (to the casual observer who did not know either of the pair even vaguely) looked to be a sweet, tender gesture. It was neither to neither of them. It was simply the most comfortable way to lie there and pretend to be sleeping. Both knew the other was awake, yet neither could be bothered to breach the silence that stretched the long hours to dawn. In all honesty, neither of them had anything to say even if they had felt awkward about the lack of communication. But both had experienced this far too many times to feel even remotely awkward. Both had grown up in a world where nudity was flaunted – especially by the whores wandering around in their free time. No, they simply lay, silent and unmoving; their chests rising and falling slowly.

But while Aalina remained aware of the man beneath her right ear and the disrupted room with scattered clothes around her, she saw what appeared to be a dream – but what she knew for a fact was not. She wasn't seeing, but her mind whirled in an automatic, peaceful way that required no effort at all. She ought by rights to be asleep, but she wasn't.

The little boy in the garden was dancing for her.

He smiled and waved, beckoning for her to come and join him; his eyes sparkled: "Come and play," they said. He twirled, his dark hair ruffling in the slight breeze that she could not feel on her arms or face. He stretched out his chubby hands and grabbed fistfuls of air, squeezing the space between his tiny fingers happily. She wanted to reach out too: to take hold of him and lift him up and spin him around until they were both dizzy, but she couldn't. Her trance like state had brought out a sense of numbness in her veins that was not even felt in the deepest of sleeps (or any kind of sleep that elves had, anyway). Instead, Aalina was forced to watch him dance alone.

After a while, he noticed that she wasn't joining in. He stopped twirling and looked at her with wide, brown eyes. They seemed to be accusing her of abandoning him. He was bored, they told her, he wanted to play! His little eyebrows furrowed and a crease appeared in between his eyes. Aalina wanted to shift and frown too, but she couldn't. It seemed wrong, in her mind, that this imaginary or real child (for she still couldn't really tell what he was) would be sad. And he was sad because of her.

Abruptly, he sat on the plush grass and started teasing the blades between his fingers slowly. She noticed – of all things - that his nails were well polished and trimmed. His thin, pink lips moved, but no sound came out to greet her ears however much she strained to hear his voice. He seemed to sigh heavily; shoulders heaving and body slumping in boredom. She watched him pluck out the blades one by one, wondering if a gardener would appear and tell him off. Selfishly, she was glad when no one appeared. This was her dream-child. She wanted to keep him to herself and not share him with anyone.

Soon, a small pile of green was sitting patiently at his booted feet. It grew and grew over such time that she wasn't sure how long it was until dawn when she would be kicked out by Murtagh because he had to get up and train with the king. Strangely, she didn't want the dawn to come. This was odd for her, because though the night was admittedly when she was most active, the night was what she hated most.

But then…was it the day? Sitting, waiting, bored? Doing nothing except waiting for the night to come around again so she could silently curse and wait out for daylight didn't seem to be enjoyable either. Nothing was, any more. Not for her. Not now. Not ever.

The boy got up unnoticed and wandered away from her view, leaving her with a line of rose-bushes to accompany her moping.

She had to do something...had to find some way of making her life bearable.

_BUT I DON'T WANT A BEARABLE LIFE! _Her mind screamed at her, _I WANT A LIFE THAT I LOVE TO LIVE!_

That was highly improbable.

The sun rose above the horizon outside and Murtagh shifted, shattering her dream-not-dream. She moaned in protest, squeezing his side and trying to make him stop moving. She wanted to see the dream-child again! Where did he go?

"No." Murtagh mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, (he never was good with mornings) "You know the rules. Come on. Get up."

"Aren't you glad I wasn't saying that last night to your –"

"Yes." He said firmly, cutting her off, "Very funny. Now move." He nudged her shoulder.

She sighed and untwined her legs from his before removing herself from his person, watching him sit and then stand up.

"It's cold. I want to stay – your bed is warm…"

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Fine. Do want you want, but I'm leaving."

She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her, and collapsed back onto the mattress. The pillows beneath her were soft but she wouldn't sleep. She rolled onto her side and stretched a bare leg out in effort to get more comfortable. She wasn't lying when she'd complained about the cold: the morning had brought with it a chill and a mist that was low on the ground outside. She could see through the curtains that Murtagh had unhelpfully opened that the grass was wet with dew even though it was the height of summer.

A few minutes later she heard Murtagh leave the rooms and closed her eyes to try and find the dream-child again. It was difficult because she didn't know what had brought it on last time in order to replicate that, but she tried all the same. At some points she tensed, screwing her eyes shut and frowning as hard as she could; legs were poker straight while her muscles trembled. At others, she completely relaxed, using a technique that her old tutor had shown her that stilled the mind as well as the body.

* * *

After nearly two hours of straining and relaxing, she was beginning to get frustrated. She'd never see him again! Grr! Why was she so hopeless at everything she did! Seeing that her antics were getting her nowhere, she decided to get up and find something to eat before finding her tutor and getting some well needed practice in. She often found that when she was worked up, sword play was a good stress-reliever.

The temperature had risen considerably since Murtagh had left and she felt safe enough putting her bare feet on the stone floor. Thankfully she didn't receive that much of a shock when her skin touched down, so she decided that she was probably fine to go hunting around for her clothes. They were scattered all over the floor and her more rational self grumbled at not having left them folded in a neat pile in one place. Of course, you never thought about that during bed-play. It was always 'think in the moment, fuck what happens after'.

While she was getting dressed faint banging and shouting ensued somewhere else in the castle, but she paid it no mind. Such sounds were common in the home of Galbatorix and if one jumped at the slightest disturbance one would spend their short lives in pent up fear. Thankfully her dress laced up the side and her corset laced up the front, so she didn't have to struggle trying to twist and turn and sway in order to dress herself. It would have been an embarrassment to walk through the corridors until she found a maid to finish dressing her.

Out the window the mist had receded and the sin was shining brightly. No doubt the rest of the castle would be getting up now (well…the fortunate few. The servants had been up several hours before dawn getting everything ready and prepared for breakfast.) Perhaps she could find a young noble to flirt with while she ate to amuse herself and distract from the depressing thoughts swirling around her mind.

They'd have to be addressed, that was certain. Just not…right now.


	6. Chapter 6 - Spar

**Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed - you know I love to hear your opinions. I know you're all starting to get fed up of my very long-winded style of writing. I can't help it! I just automatically write about the thought processes of my characters and then never actually get very far with the story! But after a slow start, things can get interesting now** :)** I wrote an action seen for you all which I know was so badly needed! I hope it's not the boring stuff I normally write! Look out for an important piece of information that I slipped in...don't know if you'll spot it or not :) **

* * *

Aalina strode purposefully across the training grounds. The sun greeted the bare flesh or her shoulders, arms and legs; caressed it like an old lover. She was no stranger to this particular embrace – nor the pain that came if it was indulged for too long. The grass was no longer wet under her bare feet but dry and spiky, pricking the soft skin of her toes. No matter how many hours the gardeners spent trying to tame the lawns, the sun would lazily over turn their work in a matter of days…in the end they stopped trying.

She'd eaten quickly and then gone back up to her rooms to change into something more suitable for fighting in. Her fighting style was too quick and too flexible for armour – not that her tiny frame could support plates of metal anyway, even if she did have super-natural strength. She had donned a leather corset of dark red and small leather shorts that only came to her mid-thigh. Her long legs, arms and shoulders were bare and unprotected – unless you counted the several wards that the king had placed around her. She was never in any real danger when she sparred here in the castle because she was too valuable to Galbatorix for her tutor or sparring partners to seriously harm her – not that she hadn't received several broken bones in her time as reward for her lack of concentration. On her right knee was a support. A thick, black strap was wrapped around her leg just above her knee and a similar one was wound under. Two vertical straps connected the pair and made sure the muscles (which had always been weak there) would not collapse. The arrangement was not ideal as it showed her enemies where her weakness was, but there was no other option. She was given exercises to strengthen it which she never did but the healers had no way of healing it by magic. The support was embedded with wards of its own, but she had no idea when they would break, so she had to protect it as much as she could.

Her advanced eyesight allowed her to scan over the sparring men and find her tutor. Her eyes passed over Murtagh locked in a fierce combat with a tall man wearing a long cape. Just before she moved on she caught sight of the neat lines of scars that were always present on his forearms. She knew that they were the only scars on his body and didn't understand why he never removed them with magic…perhaps the king had given them to him and refused to let him get rid of them. It was a strange injury to use as punishment though…just neat lines descending down from his wrists.

_Ah. _

She spotted her tutor sitting on the grass with a young, sandy haired man. He was gesturing vividly to a piece of parchment that was unrolled on the ground between them and seemed to be getting more and more agitated as the man showed no signs of understanding. She strolled up to them lazily, knowing that as his charge, she would take priority over this man that was blessed with his time. She didn't care that she was interrupting his lesson because technically, it was him interrupting her lesson.

Both men looked up as her shadow fell over them. She grinned with genuine anticipation at the elder and flicked a wrist when the younger rose quickly and bowed to her. He departed at her request and hurried away, seemingly confused about what her was supposed to do now he had no one to spar with.

"I'm bored, Alerot, I want to have some fun." She told her tutor hopefully, knowing that he would never refuse her. He knew she hated the theory lessons behind swordplay because they bored her and she would never need them. No human could hope to match her speed. He sighed and rose too, stretching out his languid frame. He was thin (for a man) and wiry, but she knew from experience that there was a lot more strength packed into his muscles than there looked to be. He had dark hair that was streaked through with silver, and a close-cropped beard to match. His ever dutiful sword hung by his side in its worn scabbard and swung as he arched his back.

"You've kept me waiting too long…you'll be getting rusty."

"Old man," She laughed, "You're the one who is rusty."

"Watch who you're calling old." He growled in an attempt to be menacing.

She remembered when she was little and first introduced to him. His hair had been completely brown then and his hands had been less scarred, but he still scared her. She was unused to unpolished men with knocked out teeth and missing fingers, but now she was faced with training with one. She'd been shy and hiding behind her nurse's legs until she'd grown used to him. He'd stopped scaring her many years ago.

"Just draw."

They drew their swords in unison. Hers was long and elegant, taken from Galbatorix's huge collection of weapons taken in The Fall. It used to belong to some elf who had died protecting some city that was now occupied by the Empire. Fine metal-work was twisted around the handle and the whole thing was perfectly balanced. It fit her like a glove; it was more like an extension of her arm than a separate object. The previous owner had named it 'Slievanӧ', which mean 'leader' in the Ancient Language, but she had changed it, preferring a name more suited to her: Néava. It meant 'Eluder' in the Ancient Language, and reflected her own personal fighting style.

She swung the blade in her hand a few times and re-familiarised herself with its weight and length. When she was ready, she nodded curtly to Alerot and sank into a half-crouch, content to let him make the first move. They locked gazes as they had done hundreds of times before and tried to figure out the other's motives. He began by sidling to the right in order to try and get to her weaker knee, but she was having none of it. She edged left and kept him within her eye line, moving cautiously and keeping herself ready for the sudden attacks that he was so fond of. Too many times in the past had she fallen foul of this tactic, and the dual was over before it had even begun.

They kept moving in a circle, until, too late, she realised that reaching her knee was never his aim. With her facing this new direction the sun was directly in her eyes and momentarily she was blind to him, only seeing a vague, black outline where he should have been. Unable to see him and with no hope of being able to parry any blows that he should make, she darted forward diagonally, trying to jump past him to the left. Because she couldn't see him, it was hard to know which direction he would make his blow and therefore know whether or not she would be running straight into his blade. But as she knew he was left-handed, she made a guess that his first blow would come across his body and go left. She timed her move as best she could, using her hearing more than her sight. Too soon and she'd embed herself on steel.

He moved as she did, as she felt the blade whistle past her skin and ended up standing behind him as he spun to face her – the sun now in his eyes. She stabbed out with her sword but he jumped aside and then came at her again from the right. This time she did nothing to evade him, and raised her arm to block his attack. He pressed at her again and again, sweeping at her from all sides and attempting to make her panic. She stood her ground, knowing that he would soon pull back. His blows were heavy handed, focused more on weight that accuracy. In order to accustom for this, she sank lower into her crouch so that her bent knees absorbed most of the impact.

He drew back sooner than she'd anticipated and she cursed inwardly, knowing that the split second she hesitated meant that she couldn't follow him without stumbling into a trap. Biting her tongue in frustration, she pulled back too. They circled again, and this time she attacked first.

Feinting right and then leaning on her left knee to duck under his arm and stick her blade into his exposed left arm pit as he struggled to keep up with her change, she sensed his confusion for a second. He parried her blow but barely, and she pressed her advantage, raining a hail of blows down on him as he had done for him moments before. Her first blow had meant he had to tilt his blade at an awkward angle to catch hers, and his hiss of pain confirmed her suspicions that it was now slightly weakened. She could use that to her advantage somehow, but just yet she wasn't sure.

He reached up and slammed the lower part of his sword into the top of hers, forcing it down on top of her head. She twisted out of the way and then arched her back as far as she could in order to avoid his next jab.

They sparred in this way for some minutes, each seeking a way to disarm the other but neither finding one. It must have been nearing the fifteen minute mark when she saw her chance to knock away his blade. Jumping forward, she kicked at his shin before trying to entangle their blades to twist his out of his weaker grip. However, she seriously misjudged the timings, and she started in shock as he twitched the sword out of the way and brought the pommel down on her hand. She stumbled away with a cry of pain, dropping her blade and breathing heavily.

"You lose."

"No."

She refused to accept defeat and dived at him, managing to get under his sword arm and forcing him backwards. He yanked his blade up to the back of her neck and she froze as cold metal touched her neck.

"Dead."

They were both breathing heavily, but she managed to grin and shake her head at him.

"You're dead."

He looked down to where she held the dagger to his exposed stomach.

"Ah."

"Ah." She smirked.

"Call it a draw?"

She laughed.


	7. Chapter 7 - Squirm

**Author's Note: Two chapters in one day! Lucky you ;) I hope you enjoy this one. It's not really linking to the rest of the story, I just slipped it in for a bit of fun. Look out: if you are offended by sexual innuendos you're best not reading this chapter! **

* * *

Later, after she'd bathed and stretched out all of her sore muscles, she was lying on her bed and reading a scroll written in the Ancient Language when there came a knock at the door. She looked up as a guard called out to notify her that someone was 'here to see her'. She sighed and made her way over, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

She opened the door to find the amused guard standing in her reception chamber with a skinny youth that was no long out of puberty. He still carried the spots of swaddling clothes on his forehead and he seemed rather sweaty. His clothes hung off his frame, showing that although his family could afford the garments, they could not afford a tailor to fit them.

"My Lady!" He squeaked out. She was just impressed that he managed not to stutter.

"No." She told him firmly, not bothering to be polite and listen to what he had to say first.

"But I haven't even asked anything yet!"

"But the answer is no."

He looked at the guard for help. The armoured man just shrugged and prepared to lead him out.

"No! Wait…" He fumbled and brought out a ring box. "Please, marry me…"

"I've already told you, no!" She snapped, losing her patience with him. She glanced at the guard and he bowed shortly to her, leading the protesting man from the room and out of her disgusted sight. She slunk back into her bedroom and stopped to slam the door. It did little to vent her frustration.

_Petty human! All of them are pathetic little humans…not worth my time! A few minutes of flirting and they seem to think that they have captured my heart! Ha! How dare they? They have no right to come in here and ask for my hand when they have spent no more than a few minutes with me – some have never even spoken one word to me! They have no right!_

She continued to rage inwardly for another half an hour. She knew that her anger was unjustified really, but the stupid men who visited her embarrassed her. Always some remark would be made by the king or Murtagh the next day and she would have to sit while they laughed at her. The cold, unamused laugh from Murtagh who cold only laugh at the pain of others and the soft, unsettling chuckle that belonged to Galbatorix.

"My Lady! A messenger for you."

She ground her teeth. What would it be this time? A declaration of love?

"I don't want any more visitors! Get him out!" She didn't bother answering the door.

"From the king, lady!"

She sighed in defeat and wrenched the door open, revealing the trembling squire hired to run around doing errands in the castle.

"What." There was no hint of a question in her voice and he trembled again.

"The king wishes for you to dine with him tonight, lady."

"Fine."

"Two hours from now, in the –"

"Yes, I know! Get out!"

He shook once and then fled, followed by an amused guard.

When she arrived at the hall that she ate in when the king requested her presence, there were already murmurs from inside. It seemed she wasn't the only one that had been asked to join the king that evening. The guards on the doors glanced at her briefly before opening the doors. It wasn't their place to openly stare at a lady of the house – especially not the ward of the king. But still, it satisfied her that they found her appearance pleasing even if she hated it when they voiced this.

She stepped inside the hall and was greeted by the sight of a long wooden table, with Murtagh sat stiffly at one end, and the king smugly at the other. There was a chair halfway down one side that she assumed was for her, and she glared briefly at Murtagh for making her sit in between them.

_Fuck him, getting here before me._

She curtsied low in the doorway and then began to make her way over to her seat.

"You look quite lovely, my lady." The king smiled in that way of his, making her falter. She recovered quickly and thanked him quietly, not looking at him. "Don't you agree, Murtagh?" There was a smirk on his face that made her suspect she was missing some joke, and Murtagh scowled at him.

"Yes." He replied stiffly, barely moving his lips.

She frowned and sat down, clasping her hands in her lap.

The dress she'd chosen was light but stitched with intricate patterns by the finest seamstresses. The neckline was cut a little too low for what was 'acceptable' in court, but she didn't care if some cleavage was showing. The dress was backless except for a thin strap going from above her right breast and joining her left hip. The bare skin of her shoulders showed through, and the tattoo inked onto her left shoulder was clearly visible.

"You're injured?" The king pressed, eyes drilling into her. She glanced down at her bandaged hand.

"I was sparring, my lord."

"Hmm. Perhaps then more practice is needed."

She bristled at his masked insult, but didn't reply. After a suitable pause for her to respond, the king carried on the conversation from before she'd arrived. It was just like him to carry a conversation even though it was obvious everyone else involved was uncomfortable.

"Murtagh and I were just talking about something your guards told me this morning."

She frowned and glanced at the dark young man who was tense at the far end of the table.

"And what was that?" She faked a smile.

"They seemed to be under the impression that you 'accidently' wandered off when you were supposed to be with them yesterday."

"Accidently, of course."

"Of course! I was just asking Murtagh if he'd seen you at all last night."

She gritted her teeth.

_He knows._

"Were you?"

"Mm."

He was determined to make them both as uncomfortable as possible. She fought the urge to squirm. Why was he doing this? He knew that they'd slept together before – lots of times. Well, if you called fucking and then lying awake all night 'sleeping together'.

"And what did he say?"

"Strange, but he didn't seem to want to answer…can you help me here?"

"We…" She bit her cheek and flushed even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He always had this effect on her. Like she needed to apologise for something that she didn't. "We may have…bumped into each other."

"Ah…did you go for a walk together?" He was fighting the urge to make that dark chuckle sound that was his laugh.

She hesitated.

"Something like that."

"Did you enjoy it?"

_Gods! Stop pressing! You've had your fun!_

"I suppose so."

"Murtagh? Did _you _enjoy it?"

"Our 'walk'?" Came the mechanical reply.

"Of course! What else could I be referring to?"

Aalina couldn't help it. She winced and shifted in her seat. Murtagh glared at her.

"Something wrong, lady?"

"No." She spat.

"I could swear you seem uncomfortable."

"Shall we eat? I'm hungry." She changed the subject. His eyes laughed at her but he let it drop, gesturing for the serving maids to come forward and load their plates with huge portions of food while they watched and waited to go home to their scraps.


	8. Chapter 8 - Change

**Author's Note: Much longer than usual chapter this time - I had loads to fit in! Thank you to those of you who reviewed the fight scene - I'm glad you liked it! I tried to put in as much detail as possible without revealing how little I know about sparring! Haha...**

* * *

"No."

"Why?"

"No."

"But –"

"No."

"If –"

"Enough!"

Aalina flinched at the sudden coldness in his honey voice. She'd tried everything…flattery, big eyes, pleading, deals…nothing had worked. All she wanted was to leave the castle for a few hours! She was bored and had no one to spar with…Sir Alerot had taken ill and left her to sit by her window again all by herself. After a few hours of mind numbing boredom she'd gone down to the front courtyard but the guards on the gate refused to let her out into the city. Just like they always did.

The throne room echoed with the sound of the king's angry voice, making it seem like the word bounced back and pummelled her skin again and again. She looked away from the dark figure on the raised throne and back again, trying to think of something that would change his mind.

"You are not to leave these halls. You will stay within this castle and you will keep out of the way of people."

"But I'm –"

"I said enough!"

She gritted her teeth and swept from the room, not bothering to ask permission.

* * *

The young man struggled with his task, hand shaking with exhaustion as he held it up, gedwëy ignasia shining red. She watched from the shadows as the water was manipulated and twisted with single words into pictures and shapes. He'd obviously been going for hours and the weight of his magic use was taking its toll. The king insisted that when training his young rider use only his own strength, not that of his eldunari.

Finally, the magician training him murmured and the magic was allowed to be released. Apparently that was it for the day, because the taller man strode away, muttering something about weakness. Aalina watched Murtagh make several rude gestures to the man's back as he left, but found nothing amusing in them. She was in a bad, dangerous mood. She wanted to do something reckless. Something she'd never thought to do before and something she knew she'd be punished greatly for if she was caught.

"Can I ask you something?"

Murtagh whipped around at the sound of her voice. He'd evidently not noticed she was standing there.

"How did you get in here?"

She shrugged and moved forwards, repeating her question.

"You can ask…" He replied slowly, implying she probably wouldn't get an answer. She tried anyway.

"You know when you…er…left…before?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Yes." Suddenly his voice was hard and forced. Well…she was used to that today.

"How did you…er…leave…the castle?"

His eyes narrowed further and were no more than slits.

"Why?"

"No reason!" She backtracked hastily, "I mean…I was just wondering –"

"Why?"

"Because…um…"

"Why do you want to leave?"

"I don't!"

"I you lie I won't help you."

"I mean…urm…."

"Why. Do you want. To leave."

"I'm bored!" She defended, "I want to –"

"No."

"What?"

"No. I'm not going to help you."

"But you said -!"

"No, I said I wouldn't help you if you lied, not that I would help you if you didn't."

"Why?!"

"Because he'll find out I told you."

"No he –"

"Yes, he will."

"Don't be so –"

"I'm only being realistic. And anyway, I couldn't even if I wanted to – which I don't."

"Would you please stop –"

"Interrupting you?"

She seethed under his smirk and then fled the room, feeling even more frustrated than she had been before.

* * *

Her eyes burned…she was so tired…maybe if she just lay down and shut them…she wouldn't go to sleep, she would just….just…

Flash.

Screaming.

"Please! Please!"

"You should have listened to me!"

The door to the throne room was open a tiny crack, the guards that were posted by it peeping through and watching the drama unfold. She heard a shout and then more screams, begging for something…

Flash.

She was standing with the guards now looking in on a scene that should never have happened. But it already had…she knew…she could just tell…

"It's your fault he's dead!"

"No!"

Another scream.

She saw the king, standing over a dark haired woman who was lying on the floor at his feet and writhing in agony. Someone else was in there too…a tall, dark haired man with broad shoulders and mis-matched eyes.

Morzan.

She'd seen paintings of Murtagh's father before. She recognised him easily from the way he stood, with so much power and confidence…yet…somehow something was wrong. Something had happened to make him doubt himself.

"Please! I didn't! It wasn't my fault!"

"Worthless scum!"

The woman screamed again.

"My servant is gone because of you and your meddling! If you hadn't gone to the cathedral then none of this would have happened! Kialandí would still be alive were it not for you!"

The orange flames soared, ready to implode.

No! She didn't want it to go! Her father's name had called to her…she wanted to know what happened to him and the woman on the floor! She clung to the vision as hard as she could, grappling in her mind to force the dancing, orange shadows down.

Galbatorix pointed at Morzan, fury in his eyes.

"He is the only one left because of _you!_"

"I didn't mean for it to happen! Please!"

Suddenly the screams cut off. Galbatorix crouched down and waved an ugly dagger in front of the woman's face.

"I'm going to kill you now." He said plainly, no emotion in his voice, "I'm going to kill you. You are worthless to me now, Oreute. I can find another seer, I don't need you. I'm going to kill you and it won't be painless, but I think you know you deserve this, don't you? Deep inside…"

"No!" The woman's voice trembled. "Please…" She whispered, "Please, I…I'm with child! His child! Don't kill our baby!"

The king paused over her, and then clamped a hand violently around her chin.

"Swear it." He growled, "Swear you are with his child!"

"I swear!" She pleaded, repeating her statement in the Ancient Language.

He stood up and released her, shoving her face back down roughly. She started sobbing into the marble floor.

"Morzan!" He snapped, "Take her to the rooms underneath the citadel…she is not to leave. Fetch her some healers and then leave."

"Yes, my lord." The other bowed as the flames won and consumed all Aalina's sight.

This time, when she woke, Aalina was not overpowered by magic of fear. She simply opened her eyes and stared at the canopy of her bed in silence. Her quiet breathing did not hitch or stutter as she struggle to understand what she'd just seen or heard. She just lay on the blankets and stared, and stared, and stared.

She'd never had a vision where she'd been able to hear as well as see. It was an odd, new sensation and she wasn't entirely sure that she liked it. The things that she'd learned…

_He lied to me. _She thought objectively, _That bastard king lied to me. He told me he'd tried everything to save her…but he didn't. I bet she was fine after the birth…I bet he killed her himself. Or maybe he had that Morzan do it for him – too afraid to do it himself. Coward. _

_But what am I supposed to do now? Confront him? Scream and shout? Or cry and beg him to kill me? I don't want to do that. However boring it is here…why would I try and kill myself? Just because of something that happened more than 18 years ago?_

_But I'll never trust him again. Not ever. He told me he'd never lie to me. He told me that he'd always tell me the truth, no matter what I asked him. What else has he lied about?_

* * *

The summons to see the king came later. She'd given up trying to reason out what she'd been told because the fact of the matter was, he'd lied to her and she'd believed him. The fool she was, she'd believed him. Not again though.

She was escorted to the throne room by the group of soldiers that had brought her the summons…and she had a funny feeling that they were there to make sure she didn't try anything. She'd never been marched down before. It was always some squire that disappeared five minutes after delivering his message. So when she entered to find him sitting on his blasted throne, she knew she'd done something to anger him. And she had the worst feeling that she knew what it was.

Not curtsying would anger him further, but she remained standing anyway. She was too angry from learning about his lies and broken promises to curtsy. His black eyes glared at her from the shadows and she glared right back, ready to justify her choice. She wasn't afraid of a shouting match…but she was uneasy…he'd never hurt her before and she had no reason to believe he would now…but he looked angrier than she'd ever seen him with her.

"So." He spoke, voice snapping with authority.

She raised her chin and didn't reply, waiting for him to tell her why she was in trouble before she argued.

"I learned something _very _alarming today, Aalina. Can you guess what that was?"

_I withheld a vision from you and ripped the memories from the minds of your guards._

She stayed silent, glaring up at him. He glowered back with fire in his eyes before rising and descending slowly down the steps towards her. Each footfall was the sound of a small explosion, she decided. She didn't move, but her heart sped up as he neared her. The lines on his face were etched with fury, just how he'd been when he tortured her mother in her vision.

He stopped less than a metre from her and sneered, lip curling in repulsion.

"I took you in after your parents left you. No one else wanted you and I didn't have to take you, but I did. And I gave you everything you wanted. But _this, _is how you decide to repay me." He leant forward slightly and hissed. "Leave."

She froze, confused.

"That's what you said. Behind my back, _escape._"

_Oh._

_Shit. _

"You asked Murtagh how to _leave._ AFTER I TOLD YOU NO!" He shouted in her face and she stared at him, unsure whether she was glad he was angry about this and not her withholding a vision or not.

"I told you, I'm –"

"Oh I know!" He backed off and through his arms out. He looked at her and sneered again. It was an expression filled with contempt and loathing. "Please, my lord," He mimicked her voice, "Let me leave the castle! I WANT TO SEE THE CITY, YOU SAID!"

"I do –"

"AND I TOLD YOU NO!"

"But why?!" She bit back, riling him further but not caring, "Why can't I go out?! All I wanted to do was leave for a few hours! I wasn't going to –"

"What? Run away? That's what it sounded like to me! Do you really think I don't watch my own rider's lessons?! I saw and heard everything that happened in that room!"

"AND I JUST SAW AND HEARD EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN THIS ROOM WHEN MY MOTHER TOLD YOU SHE WAS PREGNANT!"

_Oops._

"What did you just say to me?"

"I saw…_everything. _You lied to me! You told me you tried everything! You told me that you'd never lie to me but you did and I bet you killed her too! Didn't you?" She glared at him. "Didn't you?!" She demanded again.

"Yes."

"I hate you."

"Hating me isn't going to make things any better. I'm moving you."

"What?"

"I won't have you here anymore! You are causing more trouble than you're worth lately and your constant whining gives me headaches! You are a child, Aalina, and you don't deserve what you have."

"What, a bastard liar for a king and an empty space where my murdered mother should be?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Oh, I think we both know what I just said to you, _my lord._"

And then she screamed.

White hot pain was racing through her, making her flesh boil and her blood evaporate from her veins. She felt her body morph into shapes she didn't want it to but was helpless to stop it; her back arched and her nails raked across unyielding marble. She was on the floor, writhing, unable to see through the flashes that were her vision. She heard herself begging and hated the sound of her own voice, cursed herself for being so weak but screamed louder when the pain intensified. She yelled in pain and begged him to stop; she was sorry! She pleaded with him to forgive her but the pain raged on, changing the cells in every part of her until nothing inside her was left unpurged.

"Please! Please stop! Please, please stop!"

More screaming.

Her head felt like it was going to explode and she beat at her temples, trying to force the pain out but nothing worked. Nails were being forced from behind her eyes and blood rain down her face. He was going to kill her! She panicked and screamed louder, covering her face with her hands and curling into a ball.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please make it stop!"

After a while the pain did start to recede. It started in the tips of her fingers and made its way up her arms, spreading a warmth that she'd never previously noticed was there. Slowly, so slowly, the spell wore off and then stopped. Her heart still pounded with fear and shock and her head still ached, but the rest was gone. She found herself stretched awkwardly on the floor. Her dark hair was splayed around her and hid part of her face as she lay on her side. The 'blood' that was streaming down her face turned out to be tears and her breath came out in strangled sobs. Her throat was sore from screaming and she needed water…but she was terrified that if she made another sound the pain would start again. So she lay as still as possible on the marble and waited for the inevitable darkness to close around her. She could feel it coming – but not fast enough. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be anywhere near him.

She quickly noticed someone else was in the room with them: someone with dark hair and tense muscles and booted feet. She could hear him and the king talking but his back was to her and he never looked at her…not once. They continued to speak for some minutes while she sobbed into the rock before the dark haired man approached her, his boots stopping inches from her face.

That was when she lost consciousness.


	9. Chapter 9 - Punishment

**Author's Note: So, Aalina had quite an ordeal last chapter - and unfortunately for her that was only the beginning! Our lovely King Galbatorix (note the sarcasm) isn't one to forgive easily. After reading through the other chapters I've noticed a few typos so please forgive me! I type too fast when I get an idea and I hope it hasn't put any of you off! **

* * *

The first thing that Aalina noticed when she opened her eyes was that she wasn't lying in the same place she had been the last time she'd shut them. Not that this new place was any more comfortable than a marble floor, it was just plainly obvious she wasn't in the throne room any more. The tiny room she was in lay in gloom and there was a musty smell in the air – as if damp had crept in and settled a long time ago. The only window in here had been boarded up hastily, faint strands of light forcing their way in through the cracks in the wood and highlighting the holes in the rough flooring. She realised that she must be lying in what used to be a servant's room. The bed was tiny, thin and plank-like. In disgust, she squirmed and groaned in pain as her neglected muscles cramped and stretched. The mattress she was lying on was little more than a sack stuffed with straw…she could almost feel the mites wriggling beneath her.

No.

There was no way she would spend the next gods-knew-how-long in this hole. Was this still part of her punishment? It must be. Wasn't he taking this too far? It was his fault in the first place that all of this happened. He'd been the one to lie, to murder, to refuse to allow her to leave the castle. All she'd done was _enquire _as to a way to get out. It wasn't as though she'd had anything more than the intention of roaming the streets for a few hours before returning. She wouldn't have left the city – wouldn't have even gone very far at all. No one would have even noticed her absence.

Or at least, that was the plan.

He hadn't even let her explain herself.

She wondered where she was. He'd mentioned moving her and it was plain that wherever _here_ was, it wasn't the capital. As she got up (carefully this time) she noticed she was only wearing a thin white tunic that came to her upper-thigh and was sleeveless. Her bare feet protested at the rough floor and she took her steps carefully, constantly thinking her next move would earn her a nasty splinter. If only she'd been so careful about her words when in the throne room. She shuddered at the memory and wondered if he was watching her now.

She approached the door quickly, wanting to get out of this musty room and breathe in the fresh air again. She didn't know what she'd find on the other side of this door but it had to be better than this. She tugged gently on the brass handle, waiting to hear the welcoming squeak of old hinges giving way.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, putting more force into her pull this time.

Nothing happened.

This time she wrenched at the door, throwing all her strength into it, trying in vain to get the damned thing to open. Even if it was locked her elfin strength would destroy the battered looking wood enough that she could just rip it open, she was confident.

Nothing happened.

Her mouth let loose every curse she knew in every language she knew, damning the king and his servants, disowning any part of her lineage and cussing the use of magic that had reinforced the door.

This was Murtagh's work, she was certain of it. Only he had enough strength besides the king to use the power of magic she could feel now humming from the door. It seemed to be laughing at her.

_Is that the best you can do?_

She gritted her teeth and reached for her magic, preparing to try and counteract whatever spell Murtagh had used to seal the door. He may be older, but she had been trained by the best for longer than he had. While he'd been off running with the farm boy she'd been forced into lessons teaching her things about magic he could only dream of.

But when she reached through her mind to grasp the ball of light that was her magic, she found it missing.

"Fuck you, Morzansson, damn you for whatever you did to me!" She spun around in anger, giving up on the door and stalking to the window, not caring about the splinters now, only intent on getting out of the room so she could ring his neck until he gave her the cure for whatever drug he'd used. She didn't care that he's done it on the king's orders, all she wanted was to vent her anger.

Her hands were pale against the dark wood, but her little fingers found easily holds in the cracks that had been left. She rattled the boards, testing how strong they were.

All she succeeded in doing was hurting her neck.

"No!"

She tugged harder, yelling abuse at the wood that just seemed to look at her in exasperation and waited for her to give up. And give up she did. She'd never been known for her patience. It was thin at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times.

"I hate you _Galbatorix! _And you, bastard spawn of Morzan! I hate you both!"

She went back over to the tiny door and pounded on it with both fists until they were sore, screaming curses and demanding to be let out. No one replied, no one came. No one except silence.

* * *

The hours dragged on while she morphed between screaming against the door and sitting in the middle of the floor with her legs drawn up to her chest. It was only when the light began to recede did she really panic. Surely they wouldn't keep her in here another night? Gods knew how long she'd been in here in the first place.

_They wouldn't, _she kept telling herself, _They wouldn't keep me in here another night._

But when night came reality hit her like a slap in the face.

They would.

And they did.

* * *

Three days. Three days before the sounds of approaching soldiers pricked her ears. She retreated to the furthest corner of her room and huddled into the corner, sore throat begging for the water she had been neglected and sore stomach begging for the food that had never come.

The sound of keys jangling in a lock made her flinch and she withdrew further from the door, glaring hatefully at the man that entered. Behind him she could see a host of soldiers waiting to spring in at the first sign of trouble.

"Calmed down, have we?"

Her elfin roots forced a disgusted hiss between her teeth. It was an inhuman sound designed to unsettle the loyal soldiers of the empire outside. It worked – they shuffled back and glanced at their feet, avoiding her hate filled stares.

"Play nice or I'll make you stay here another few nights."

She bit back a growl, choosing instead to glower at the tall man.

"That's better. You were giving us all headaches with your screeching. You should have quickly realised shouting would get you nowhere. Orders were not to let you out until you quietened down…you could have been out the first day." He frowned, and added with a smirk, "As much as I like it when you're loud."

"You're a bastard, Morzansson."

"So I've heard." He said icily, not bothering to hide his glare at her associating him with his father. "Count yourself lucky – trust me, you've had an easy ride with this."

"Why should I ever trust _you_?!"

He laughed. "You're not the first person to insult the king. And remember, where you tried to run away, I _did _run away."

"I didn't try because, if you recall, _someone _refused to tell me how!"

He smirked, "And _someone _is glad they decided not to, otherwise they'd have been in this shithole with you."

"Scum!" She hissed.

"Fine. If you've decided not to be nice then you can stay here and mope for a week longer!" He turned to leave and the soldiers leered at her.

As much as it hurt her pride, she couldn't bear the thought of staying here another week more.

"Wait." She pleaded quietly, glaring at the floor so as not to see his smug face.

"Yes?"

"I'll be nice." She promised him, risking a glance at his face.

"Good."

* * *

An hour later she was lying in a wooden bath tub with hot water up to her chin. The servants had prepared it for her immediately after she was released from the tiny room and taken to a much nicer accommodation. The rooms she was given weren't exactly plush, but the bed was comfortable and the window was unblocked. The washroom, while basic, was definitely better than having none at all.

She sighed and breathed in the lavender scented air, swirling the milky water around her fingers delicately. Her sore muscles welcomed the relaxing bath, stretching out and beginning to lose their tension. Her knotted back still pained her, but it was nothing like the agony she'd experienced when Galbatorix had loosed his anger on her. She never wanted to feel anything like that again.

She teased the knots out of her hair and worked to making it silky and soft once more. The days spent in solitude without anything but a bed had definitely affected her. Her frame was much thinner even after only three days of no food, and her mouth was tighter. She hoped it wouldn't be long until she returned to her normal self because the longer it took her, the more reminders she'd have of her treatment.

She was an elf! Not some pathetic servant to be played with! Her pride had been severely wounded over this, and she wasn't about to try something like it again.


	10. Chapter 10 - Confined

**Author's Note: Sorry, another filler chapter for you here! Just explaining what's going on for Aalina in the near future. But don't worry, next chapter something VERY interesting will happen and things will kick off... If you're offended by strong language and/or sexual references you may not want to read this chapter**

* * *

Aalina was dressing when Murtagh came in. She heard a door open and stuck her head around the side of the screen she was standing behind to find him lounging against one of the bed posts. She scowled at him and hid her face again, going back to struggling with the ties of her dress. She'd been twisting this way and that for at least ten minutes now and had had little success tightening wise. She cursed the fact that there were no maids here to help her and the fact that she had to wear to ridiculous things in the first place. She would be much more comfortable in a tunic and leggings.

"Need help?"

_Oh for – _Why was he being such a dick?

"No." She replied, very slowly and forcefully, her gritted teeth aching. He didn't answer after that (thank the gods for small mercies), leaving her to wrestle with the stupid ribbons in silence. He didn't leave though, which made her very self-conscious. If he hadn't been in there silently laughing at her (which she knew he was) she wouldn't have fumbled so much. It was only because she was trying to prove him wrong that she struggled to tie them that much faster – her efforts only serving to make her go agonisingly more slowly.

Finally, a full fifteen minutes after she'd begun her venture, Aalina emerged from behind the screen with a properly tied dress and a heavy scowl. Murtagh was still leaning against the post with one of his many bored faces on: jaw set in a hard line and eyes raised to the ceiling to try and find something of interest there. Even though her wasn't looking at her, the corner of his mouth quirked a little in a smirk when she appeared with heavy footsteps and a dark face. He seemed to find it amusing that she was so pissed off with him.

"What do you want?" She refused to look at him any longer, so she turned to the small window and pretended to be adjusting her skirts.

"I thought you said you were going to be nice?" The bed creaked as he stood from it and made his way over. He was being so different to how he normally was and she didn't understand why. Sure, he was normally bored and cocky with her (that being when Galbatorix wasn't around), but he never held the same note of…cruelty in his voice that he did now. It sounded like he was mocking her…and she didn't like it. Not one, little bit.

She ignored him and continued to fiddle with her dress for want of something better to do. She would never admit it, but she was embarrassed to look at him. He'd been the one who'd told her the king would find out about her plans and she'd ignored him. He'd seen her writhing on the floor when Galbatorix had punished her and he'd seen her sobbing into the marble afterwards. He'd taken her here and locked her in a servant's room, knowing full well she'd expect to be able to best his magic. He might have even been watching her as she realised how powerful he really was, and heard her screaming in a fully blown tantrum that was only befitting of a five year old human child. He'd then made her plead to be set free and listened to her fighting with _ribbons. _She was ashamed of her behaviour, and even now she was behaving like a child might. As much as she wished it, she couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes and see his contempt. She was an elf! No man should ever look at her with anything less than reverence.

My, she was vain.

And she didn't care.

"You know, if you want to do something with your hands I can give you a few suggestions." His voice was soft in her ear, but it dripped with sarcasm. He knew she wouldn't sleep with him now, not after everything that had happened recently – and not when she was so angry and humiliated.

Aalina turned and brushed past him, trying as hard as she could not to touch him and staring resolutely at the floor. "What do you want?"

She heard him sigh like a child who'd been robbed of their favourite game. It was almost a stomped foot and a sulky 'fine!' Maybe she wasn't the only one acting like a child. "He wants me to tell you what you're allowed to do while you're here."

Her scowl deepened; her eyes burned holes in the wall. "Go on then."

"Nothing."

"What?"

She felt more of his silent laughter.

"You're not allowed any books or scrolls. You're not allowed out of these rooms. You're not allowed to request servants to come and talk to you. The only person allowed in here apart from you is me and one servant who'll bring your food - but he won't talk to you – he's had his tongue cut out." She wrinkled her nose. "The only thing you're allowed to do is sleep and when you have a vision you're to tell me."

"This is bullshit."

He burst out laughing.

It wasn't a proper laugh – as usual. It was his version of a laugh. Somehow he managed to sound bored and angry even when he found something amusing.

"I think," He said when his mirth had subsided; "The idea is to keep you as bored as possible – since that was your excuse."

"Who knew our…_glorious_…monarch had a sense of humour."

* * *

She had three rooms assigned to her. The first was a bedroom; it was small and undecorated with a small window that looked out onto an empty, unkempt garden. The bed was lumpy, but it was a damn sight better that the straw mattress she had in the servant's room. At least there were no ticks and the blankets were soft. The only other things in the room were the wooden screen to be used for dressing behind and a dusty mirror propped up against one wall. It was hardly what she had in the capital. The second room was small – more of a cupboard than anything else. It held her clothes – all new of course, she wouldn't have been allowed anything familiar here. There was nothing summery, so she was forced to tie herself into heavy garments that harboured sweat and made her feel disgusting. She quickly refused to struggle with the ties and sit sweltering hot in her room all day, so on only the third day of her being there she forsook the dresses altogether. Instead, she chose to spend her time in a thin shift that was meant to go underneath the dresses. They were all plain and white, but they were heavenly to her. The third room was the bathroom. Each day when Murtagh came to visit her he'd bring with him the servant that brought her food and her bath would be filled so she could wash if she wanted – which she always did.

The first night after Murtagh had visited her she had given in to exhaustion. The whole time she'd been locked in the servant's room she'd refused to sleep, and finally her body collapsed onto a bed. She'd woken several times in the night, screaming and sweating, but no one had come to her. The next evening Murtagh had arrived and made her tell him everything she'd seen so he could relay the information to Galbatorix (who, he said, was making daily contact through enchanted mirrors).

"I never heard you." She'd said suspiciously. His rooms were right next door to hers so that he could easily keep any eye on her. A door connected their rooms but he kept it locked from his side until he wanted to come and see her. It made her uncomfortable knowing he could walk in any time he wanted.

"That's because I put a spell on the wall," He'd smirked, "You really don't think I want to listen to you screaming every night, do you? No sound passes between our rooms."

She'd flushed and scowled at him. It wasn't her fault.

On the second night she'd refused to sleep, still haunted by her bad experience the night before. She sat on the floor all night with a cloak wrapped around her against the chill that had come with sundown. It was a miserable existence.

It was now the evening of the fourth day, and she was again to be found sitting on the floor, bored out of her mind. How she wished she had even one scroll to read. There wasn't even anyone to complain to for the only people she saw were Murtagh and the mute servant who brought her food and prepared her bath. The wooden platter sat almost untouched on the floor near her. Each day, the only thing she was brought was a loaf of bread, some cheese and one apple. Each day, she refused the bread and cheese. So not only was she bored, but she was starving too. An apple a day was hardly a brilliant diet.

The door separating hers and Murtagh's rooms opened and he entered with the servant, who picked up the platter and left again, no doubt to ferry it off to the kitchens. She watched it go almost regretfully, and snapped:

"I'm hungry."

"Maybe you should eat your food, then."

She growled like a cat.

"I'm not a servant. I don't eat maggoty bread and mouldy cheese."

"Then you'll be hungry for a long time."

"Urgh! I'm bored!"

"No shit."

"I don't have anything to tell you, _Murtagh, _so you may as well go."

"Oh…you don't want me to do that."

She stood and faced him, still avoiding his gaze.

"Don't I?"

"Nope." He smirked and took a step towards her, grin spreading.

She narrowed her eyes but allowed him to snake his arms around her waist and pull her to him anyway. She was _so _bored…

"The servant will be back to fill my bath in a minute…you aren't that quick."

He bit back a laugh and trailed a hand up her side. "He won't be coming back tonight."

"You planned this!" She accused him.

"Of course…you forget, I'm bored too…"

They didn't speak again for a while.


	11. Chapter 11 - Argument

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I went on holiday to Turkey (v. hot :)) and obviously I couldn't update there :( But back to normal now. I've finished school for good (woop) so I can spend much more time perfecting the story (laughs). A very quick chapter here, but it furthers the story A LOT and there'll hopefully be another one later today. **

**Just a quick THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed and followed so far because although I don't reply to each and every one, I do read and take on board the comments. I want to single out a review written by someone anonymous because I couldn't reply privately (obviously). I hope you read this because your review really made me happy - I'm so glad I proved you wrong because I often do that with fanfics myself: I judge before reading and many times I'm proven wrong. So THANK YOU, and I'm very glad you like the story so far.**

* * *

"Stay."

His laughter was muffled by the pillows underneath his face and she felt his shoulders shake with his mirth. "No."

He was lying on his front with the blankets up to his waist and his head tilted to the left so he could see the screen. He'd spread his arms wide on the pillows above his head for a reason unknown to Aalina. It didn't look very comfortable. She tried to sneak closer to him - until she was nearly draped over his back - so she could see the face that was turned from her but he jerked her away with a snort.

"Why?" She whined, hiding her insult at his rejection, "Just for tonight."

"No."

"So go then!" She was suddenly upset, "Go on! Leave!"

She felt his frown before he rolled over to face her. There was a crease on his brow and his eyes were shadowed but she turned away so he couldn't discern her expression.

_Why am I so upset? Oh Gods…what if he thinks I'm going to –_

"Are you crying?" There was no concern in his voice. It was just flat and emotionless, like the rest of him.

"No!"

"Why won't you look at me?"

"Just go! I don't even know why – just go," she faltered, giving his arm a shove.

"Gods! Fine!" He got up and dressed quickly; his movements were quick and jerky. "I don't get why you're so angry all of a sudden."

"Oh, really? Why wouldn't I be?"

"I told you: you should count yourself –"

"Lucky, yeah," She interrupted sarcastically, "But you know what, Murtagh? Maybe if you weren't such a jerk about it, then –"

"What?!" His voice was incredulous, "Since when have I –"

"Oh, I don't know! Since you locked me in a fucking cell and then sauntered in three days later like you were Galbatorix himself?"

"Don't compare me to him!" He growled viciously, kicking the screen and making the wood shudder, "I'm nothing like him!"

"Take a look at yourself, _Tag_," She used his nickname sarcastically, "Maybe you'll find you aren't as different as you'd like to be. Not so different from your father either."

His eyes narrowed, "You know _nothing _about me – or my father."

"I know more than you think."

"Oh?"

"I know that the scars on your arms would have made your father laugh at your weakness," She blurted, before she could stop herself. He froze.

"What did you say?" She recoiled as he closed in on her, "What did you say?!"

"I heard the servants talking last week. They said you made them your –"

"These scars are what separate me from my father and the king. Don't you ever forget that."

They were both silent.

"Don't come back," She whispered, "I don't want to see you. Not ever again."

"Oh yeah," He sneered, "Not until you want me to fuck you again."

"No, I mean it."

"Right, because you've suddenly become some virgin elf-queen?"

He flinched away as she slapped him, but his reactions weren't fast enough to avoid her blow. She could have gone for a full punch, but somehow a slap seemed more degrading…more fitting.

"How can you say that? I thought that you of all people would understand."

"What? Boredom?"

She hissed at him, "No!" Then she covered her face with her hands and shook her head, "No. I…it has little to do with boredom as I thought you would know! I sleep with men because it is the only thing I can do! I can't go out without permission, I can't eat without permission, I can't even dream without telling the king what I have seen! My body is the only thing that I have control over and the only thing men want! They don't want me, just my bed and I can choose to give it to who I want to. That's why!"

He snorted, "I feel so _honoured._ Really. Don't expect me to pity you, _elfling, _when you are as naïve as you sound. You say your body is the only thing you have control over, and yet you decide to give your body to others instead of keeping it for yourself. And you evidently do _not _understand the fact that no, your body is not yours. It never has been. It belongs to the king – just like the rest of you. And one day, no matter how much of a proud elf you are, he will sell you to the highest bidder to make a good alliance for his army. Then, when your husband dies an old man, he will take you back and sell you to someone else. Forever. Because I don't know if you know this: but that's how long you'll live for. So enjoy your 'control', because believe me it will not last."

And with that he strode from the room, slamming the door and leaving her in darkness.


	12. Chapter 12 - Escape

**Author's Note: Okay...so I didn't update in the same day. Oops. BUT this is a great chapter (in my humble opinion) and hopefully you'll enjoy it. **

* * *

She cried for a long time that night.

It wasn't really that Murtagh had left her or that she felt misunderstood. It was the fact that she knew he was right. Her body _wasn't _hers. The king _would _sell her to an aging general, and she would be able to do _nothing _about it. Her future prospects were about as bleak as the winter skies and there was nothing she could do to change that.

So she cried for things that had yet to happen, and she cried because she could. She didn't bother to mask the noises of her sniffles and really hoped that what Murtagh had said about sound proof walls but didn't care enough to quieten down. She wondered when she would be given to her first husband and how old he would be; would he treat her well or would he beat her? She trusted her strength enough to believe she would be able to best some middle aged soldier when he was angry.

But what then? Would she have to sleep with them? Bear them children? She shuddered at that thought: why should any innocents be brought into such a cruel world? No…she would do anything she could in order to avoid giving any man a child. If it meant she had to use a spell to make herself barren, then she would. As an elf, she believed that children were sacred and special – borne out of an act of love and not out of duty.

But what about the dream-child she had ceased to see? Perhaps her actions had changed the course of her future so much that he was no longer part of it? Was that for better or worse? What would happen to him now that she would not protect him? Would he be even be conceived?

So many questions flitted around unanswered, making her fear for her sanity.

_I am lost. I am frozen in the space between time and reality, locked in stasis. As my mind reels, my body is petrified in stone as grey as the sky above me. The rain that falls when the clouds cry with me does not feel cold to my skin anymore. There is nothing left to feel cold to my skin. Not ice or wind or even harsh words chilling the soul. Nothing burns or freezes or melts. I am lost and I will never be found._

* * *

Her lack of sleep finally caught up with her and her troubled mind descended into sleep.

_Flash._

Silent drummers beat out a silent rhythm.

_Flash._

Silent mourners shuffled along a silent deck.

_Flash._

A dark haired woman held her head high and ascended the wooden steps with fire in her eyes and a steady hand.

_Flash._

Silent words from a silent herald; he declared the woman's crimes with an impassive face and gave way for the executioner.

_Flash._

The woman's head was placed on the block and her thick hair fell forwards to reveal pointed ears.

_Flash._

The axe fell.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Fire sprang up around her bed and she flailed, desperate to get away from the source of the heat. The curtains were blazing and the smoke was acrid in the back of her throat, choking her.

"Murtagh!" She screamed, knowing he wouldn't hear. She broke down coughing, head between her knees and back aching, "Murtagh!"

Taking a leap of faith, she sprang over the main part of the fire and pressed herself against a wall with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth to try and stop the smoke forcing its way into her lungs. It didn't take long for the whole room to be filled with choking black. She thought she would pass out from lack of air; sliding down the wall, her vision narrowed and she dissolved into coughing again.

"What the hell!"

Her head snapped up and Murtagh was standing in the doorway, already shouting words to quench the flames. The smoke began to filter through the door as he made his way further into the room: arm raised and palm glowing.

_The world seemed to slow suddenly, and Aalina found herself watching the scene from a third perspective. The door was open. Murtagh was in the opposite corner. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was supposed to do. And Aalina was pretty clever. She saw her chance to escape the future that she had only just realised and only an idiot would miss it._

Afterwards she would swear that she'd never moved so fast in her life – and never would again. She felt bad for Murtagh having to deal with the failure of losing her, but he'd get over it. At least he wouldn't be married off for the rest of his life. Hell, if the Varden won he'd be free forever. Poor Murtagh. The smoke must have slipped under the door and woken him.

She wasn't sure how she got out of the estate having never seen the inside before…but then, most estates had a similar layout. It wasn't hard to find an exit since there were many situated around her. The Empire really should make things more secure. She was certain that Murtagh hadn't seen her leave – busy as he was battling the fire – but she knew she had to get as far away as she could. Briefly she considered simply running, but her lungs were still burning from the smoke and she wasn't sure how quickly she'd tire, so she opted for stealing a horse from the stables in the courtyard. The only soldiers around were easy to deal with – and Murtagh hadn't brought many. Empire trained soldiers were no match for an elf – even if she was weak and weapon-less.

The strange thing was…she enjoyed it. Finally getting to use her extra strength and speed and combat…showing the weak men wrapped in their metal like cotton wool that she was better and always had been. She revelled in hearing the 'cracks' of their bones and feeling the 'pops' of their necks as she broke them one by one. She made sure they were all silent because she couldn't risk discovery so soon. There was no going back now…she'd killed Galbatorix's soldiers and he would want her to suffer for this. Maybe he would just decide she wasn't worth the effort and kill her.

Her vision.

It was about her. She was absolutely sure.

She couldn't dwell on it now. She needed to move.

The horse she choose was tall and thin but looked strong and fit enough to carry her a long way. There was no time to tack him up and she assumed this was where her advance balance would come in. She swung onto him and urged him forward with a quick command in the ancient language and a nudge of the heels.

"Gánga! Gánga! Gánga fram! Flauga!" _Go! Go! Go forward! Fly!_

They galloped out of the gate and she could see what appeared to be the faint lights of Urû'baen in the distance.

She directed the horse in the opposite direction.

* * *

By morning horse and rider were exhausted. Their pace had been steadily decreasing through the night – but yet they had not been caught. Aalina didn't know how many leagues they had covered and didn't know whether it was enough to avoid capture. By now Galbatorix would have been alerted and many troops would know to be on the lookout for her. As such, she had avoided all the towns she came across and made sure to steer clear of the roads. She knew they were heading in a generally southern direction but apart from that…where could she go? She had no friends, no protection. All she could do was run. She had nothing with her save the thin shift she wore and the naked horse she rode upon. Sooner or later she would encounter travellers and would have to decide if they were friend or foe. What if she encountered rebels?

That thought gave her pause and she slowed the horse to a trot. Would she join them and the fight to over throw Galbatorix? She hated him, yes, but…he was still her guardian. Or was he? Had she thrown off his guardianship when she'd run away last night? Could she really declare herself one of the Varden and fight under the black-lady and the farm-boy? She was sure they'd turn her away or worse, kill her. What reason had they to trust her?

The answer was a cold: none.

And so she leaped off the horse and grabbed his mane, tugging him alongside her and running with the all the elven speed she possessed. She could not afford to stop while still in the Empire because the king could scry her – he probably was right now. He would send Murtagh out with Thorn and she would be no match for them.

When had she turned into the hunted?

* * *

She was still surprised four days later that she hadn't been captured. It was early evening and she was somewhere near the northern tip of Lake Tüdosten, having just passed Furnost. Her stomach was rumbling and her legs were shaking but she forced the horse forward. They'd already stopped for a drink for too long. She was sure posters had been put up in villages by now, offering rewards for her capture. More than once she'd scared herself stupid when she'd seen platoons of soldiers on the horizon.

The sun was just about setting when she spotted what appeared to be a campfire up on a hill. A traveller, perhaps…or soldiers? No…it was too small to be soldiers – unless they had defected of course. In which case, they could help her. Or turn her in to gain forgiveness. The horse whinnied and her stomach rumbled again.

_Gods…_

Fine. She'd go and investigate. If they were friendly she'd ask for food, and if they weren't? Well…she'd get to that part later. Slowing the horse to a walk, she directed him up the slope. He seemed to go eagerly, wanting rest for the night. Surely she'd gone far enough now? Stopping him three quarters of the way up, she slid off and told him to wait until she called him. He nickered (seemingly in understanding) and she continued up the rest of the way on foot, legs shaking from weakness.

When she reached the top she scanned around carefully for any signs of life. The area was flat and grassed, with a few trees growing in a semi-circle for protection from the wind. No one was around… but it was definitely a campfire in the middle. Perhaps she'd scared whoever it was off when they'd heard the horse approaching. It didn't matter…she was tired and there was a prospect of left over food waiting for her.

She made her way over to the fire cautiously, bare feet making no noise on the dry grass that prickled her heels. She guessed her appearance was a far cry from that of a regal princess. She was nearly at the fire when a fresh footprint caught her eye.

She froze, ready to call the horse and bolt, but a cold blade on the back of her neck got there first.

* * *

**Dun Dun DUNNNNN Any guesses about the identity of the attacker? Friend or foe? Will Aalina be recaptured? Will she join the Varden? Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13 - Rebel

**Author's Note: Thank you to all who reviewed, I made sure to reply to all of you! Sorry about the wait, I started a new fic called CRACKed which I would LOVE if you checked out. It's Inheritance again but set in the modern day, where Galbatorix is a Drug Lord called 'The King'. Please check it out! **

* * *

"Who are you and what do you want?" A sharp voice demanded behind her as the blade pressed harder against her skin. Aalina held her hands up slowly to show that she was unarmed.

"I could ask you the same," She replied cooly before the blade twisted and cut into her skin, "Okay! Okay…just relax."

"Who are you?" The voice demanded again.

"I'm not here to hurt you…I only saw your fire and hoped for food and warmth."

"Tell me your name!" The voice hissed and she felt the sharp pang as the blade bit into her again.

"I'm not your enemy!" She cried hastily, struggling to remain still and avoid startling him.

"Your name!"

"Merewen!" She blurted, saying the first name that came into her head. She vaguely remembered that one of her maids was called Merewen…perhaps that was where she got it from.

"Liar!" The voice growled, "Tell the truth!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Turn around! Let me see your face!"

She swivelled on her heel slowly, ducking her head and staring at the ground so that her hair covered her face. A hand grasped her chin and yanked her head up into the pale light of the moon. She stared up into the face of the man that essentially held her captive and watched his green eyes widen. He had jet black hair that fell in natural waves and pale skin like her – in any other circumstance she would have called him handsome.

"You!"

She squirmed and he let her go in his surprise, allowing her to stumble back a few steps but still pointing his sword at her chest.

"I –"

For a second they stared at each other like cornered beasts and then he looked down at his sword uncertainly.

"I should run you through right now."

"If you're going to kill me at least tell me your name."

"Why should I? You didn't tell me yours," He looked back at her with blazing eyes and tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"But you seem to know me anyway!"

"I only know your face!" Then he sighed, "…My name is Drew."

"Drew," She nodded slowly, "Okay," Then she took a deep breath and held out a steadying hand, "Would you put the sword down? Please? I'm not going to hurt you…"

"There are posters out there with your face all over them! Who the hell are you? Why is there such a high reward for you? They say you're dangerous…"

"I-I'm not going to hurt you…please? Just –"

"TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!" He yelled forcefully, making her jump and lean back. Her eyes flitted from side to side as she checked for ways to escape.

"I can't tell you!"

"You'll tell me before I stick metal in your gut," His voice was hard, deadly. She didn't doubt for a second that he would.

Closing her eyes briefly and giving in to what seemed to be inevitable, she told him the truth: "My name is Aalina. I'm…I mean, I –" She sighed and tried again, "Sorry. It's kind of hard to explain. Well it's not. But it is."

"Stop speaking in riddles, _Aalina_, and tell me!" He brandished the sword again with a practiced hand.

"I _am _dangerous…but only because I was taught to fight by war veterans since I could walk. I…I'm the king's ward. Or was…" She looked at him, waiting for him to try to tie her up and hand her back to the empire for whatever price it was. They wouldn't pay up. Galbatorix would just have him killed.

"Was?" He questioned cautiously, "You ran away? That's why there are posters?"

She nodded numbly, "Yes…please. Don't…I mean, don't give me back to them. I –"

"Relax. I'm not going to."

She released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm taking you to the Varden."

* * *

Two days later Aalina woke up in a straw bed and looked down at the man sleeping on the floor next to her. They'd ridden all day yesterday in order to get to the town they were currently in – and even then they'd only reached it at sundown. Drew had rented them a room for the night but refused her request of separate rooms: his argument was that she could easily run away if he didn't keep an eye on her. It was stupid really because if she had wanted to run away she would have knocked him out on the hilltop and called her horse before he even woke up.

When he'd first told her he was going to take her to the Varden, she had thought about making a run for it, but she was tired and hungry and he had food. They'd sat down and he'd watched her eat his left overs before explaining himself.

"_My name is Drew Yorinsson. When I was very young my father taught me how to fight with a sword and bow and my mother taught me how to find edible plants in the wild. We were always moving around and I didn't find out why until I was older. My parents were enemies of the empire – they'd been good friends with Vrael when he was the leader of the Varden and their names had eventually met the ears of the king. When Vrael died they left the Varden and began a life on the run. They stopped helping the Varden but they were still wanted, and one day, when I was sixteen a group of soldiers came to the village we were staying in. My parents made me hide and I watched as they fought and died in front of me. I spent years wandering by myself – but now I'm going to join the Varden and make a name for myself – just as my parents did."_

He stirred as she was remembering the conversation and the sun's rays crept slowly over his face. He looked young but she knew he wasn't. Well…not in the lifetime of men anyhow. She didn't really know what it was that had made her decide to go with him. Maybe it was the thought of the constant running if she didn't. But whatever it was, she wasn't going back on it now.

His eyelids flickered once and then opened, revealing the startling green she'd noticed the first time. He watched her watching him for a moment, and then grinned:

"Get up. We're going shopping."

* * *

Half an hour later they were walking their horses down into the market. It wasn't really very busy at this time in the morning so they were able to manoeuvre easily enough through the streets. The first thing they bought was a simple cotton dress for her. It was a pale lilac colour and fitted well – disguising her as a simple peasant. She had still been wearing the shift that she'd left Murtagh in and Drew told her it was a dead give away that something was up.

Then he took her to a shop and paid for the patron to cut her hair. She blanched and refused, backing away from the man with the knife, but Drew steered her in and plonked her in a chair, watching as the long black locks were cut away. Her hair that had always been down to her waist, now only reached her shoulders. She supposed it was necessary in order to disguise her, but she hated it all the same.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. It looks fine!" He told her as they walked out.

She gritted her teeth. _Fine. Fine. _She was not used to looking simply, 'fine'. She was beautiful, elegant, elfin…not 'fine'. Drew had bought her a simple clip to keep her new short hair out of her face and made the man bring out a bowl of water so she could wash what remained of her make up off – not that she needed it anyway.

Drew led her to an expensive looking stall next, paying the woman that ran it a ridiculous price for what seemed to be a simple necklace with a bronze leaf on the end. She'd been confused to no end when he handed it to her, but then he explained it was enchanted to stop people scrying her, she put it on immediately. It didn't have a gem so all the energy the spell used would have to come from her but that didn't really matter so much.

The next stop was to buy her horse a full set of tack so that she would finally have a saddle and reins. She could ride easily enough without, but it was be less suspicious to anyone that saw them who she was. Drew ordered the best leather money could buy, and soon her horse was tacked up with an intricately engraved saddle and sturdy reins. He was a chestnut war horse, so it was inevitable that he would receive some second looks – but then Drew's horse, Jutifor, was a dark bay war horse with fine tack on its own.

"Maybe you should name him," Drew told her once they left the place with considerably less money.

She looked up into the face of the horse and muttered, "Fine. Let's call him…Kasper."

"Great!" Drew gave one of his impromptu grins again. It took her off guard when he did that…he was usually so serious, but then he'd come out with a blazing grin and surprise you, "One more stop."

"Where?" She frowned, not knowing what else he had in mind.

"Well! You can't turn up at the Varden unarmed can you?"

They pretended to the blacksmith that the sword was for Drew. That made it difficult because he wouldn't know what sword would work best for her, so they settled into a pattern of him giving the swords to her to see if they were 'pretty enough'. Drew played the part of the exasperated man trying to get his wife to see reason and the blacksmith didn't sense anything was up. In the end she settled for a sword the same length as Drew's but a little narrower. It was a hand-and-a-half sword with a stamp of an oak tree in the circle of iron at the bottom of the hilt. It wasn't a leather wrapped hilt like Drew's, but a wire-wrapped instead.

"I like this one…the tree is pretty," She told Drew seriously. He pretended to sigh and rolled his eyes at the blacksmith before handing over the correct amount of money. A simple leather scabbard was brought out before Drew asked if the man had any bows.

"But sir, you already have one," The blacksmith reasoned, pointing the black bow and quiver on Drew's back.

"I need a replacement too…this one's old."

"Of course."

They were shown the collection of bows in the back and Aalina immediately fell in love with a white re-curve bow.

She grabbed it straight away and smiled prettily, "This one is lovely."

* * *

They cantered out of the town, Aalina with her new sword at her waist and bow on her back, along with a full quiver of top of the range arrows. She felt like a completely different person to the one who'd entered last night.

She was no longer the king's willing Seer. She was a rebel horse woman and she was going to join the Varden.

* * *

**If you want to see what Aalina's bow looks like click this link :) I'm aware that a lot of you won't know what a re-curve bow looks like . /imgres?imgurl= albums/pp182/Lilman_ &imgrefurl= user/Lilman_ .html&h=350&w=400&sz=45&tbnid=i1yVBATUHYIGDM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=103&zoom=1&usg=_UuulM0bKiGLQjMmCKJIFG20QKKI=&docid=oGUj6mR9-KkeWM&sa=X&ei=bd4MUpyXJ_Dv0gXzqoHgCg&ved=0CD0Q9QEwAg&dur=312**


	14. Chapter 14 - The Varden

**Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a little while. I know some of you are miffed that Aalina is now away from court but don't worry it isn't for good :P I hope you enjoy this chapter and it's a little longer than normal to make up for the delay :)**

* * *

Jutifor and Kasper proved to be invaluable. Drew pressed them hard, but the horses never showed any signs of slowing or tiring, even when they were forced to ride off-road for fear of soldiers passing by in the local area. In fact, they were so good that on the morning of only the fifth day of riding, Aalina found herself atop a shallow slope and looking out over the encampment of the Varden. It looked for all the world like a small city: sprawling and milling with life, a few livestock tethered and chewing on yellow grass. The tents looked weathered and rough but none had rips that she could see and the people seemed happy enough. The ground under their feet was well worn and muddy and hampered movement but that didn't stop people from going about their business. She looked across at Drew who was sitting restlessly to her right.

"This is it?"

"Mm."

"The mighty Varden?"

He glanced at her, "You don't sound very convinced."

"You said it was safe here!"

"Trust me, it's the safest place for you at the moment," He replied seriously before spurring Jutifor forwards. Aalina gave a sigh and followed in a quick canter, hoping he was right but unable to shake the feeling of nervousness in her stomach.

As they approached the camp the men guarding the defences lowered their pikes and pointed them towards the pair. Around them high earth embankments had been dug and topped with barbed wire – not very sophisticated but definitely effective. Just before they came within ear shot of the guards Aalina looked at Drew and murmured: "I really hope you're right about this…"

The only reply she got was an exasperated look.

"Halt! Who goes?"

"Drew Yorinsson."

"Yorinsson?"

Drew nodded once and the guards looked at each other before raising their pikes, "You'd better dismount and follow me."

Once they were on the floor the guard that had spoken beckoned them forward sharply, but before they'd gone more than a few steps he peered into her face and motioned for them to stop, "Who's this then, eh?"

"She's with me," Drew said smoothly.

"You'll vouch for her?"

"I will."

"Humph. Come."

* * *

Nasuada's tent was right in the centre of the camp, guarded by two Urgals, two Men and two Dwarves. Drew and Aalina had followed the captain through the narrow gaps between the tents, leading their respective horses and earning some curious glances. Aalina kept her head up and tried to remain aloof but the whole time her heart was thudding furiously against her chest. It was not in an elf's nature to show fear and she did not break that tradition, but she was wondering what would happen if someone recognised her every single step of the way.

They were told to hand their horses over to a couple of squires before being announced to the interior of the tent and ushered inside. To Aalina, the light that filtered through the red canvas made everything look as though it was bathed in blood. A single rug was lain out on the floor and a mirror was attached to a pole in the centre of the tent. There was a small table covered in maps and documents and finally, a stiff backed wooden chair held the leader of the Varden herself.

Nasuada was young – much younger than Aalina had expected her to be – and had skin so dark it was almost black. Aalina had heard of these people before: the Nomads of the desert that roamed in caravans and tribes, but she'd never before seen said people, and it intrigued her. A pair of almond eyes watched her from the dim and made her want to fidget. On entry Drew bowed shortly, keeping a respectful distance from the woman who looked too young to _deserve_ that kind of respect, but Aalina remained standing her full height, slightly hidden behind her male companion.

"Lady Nasuada…" Drew spoke softly so as not to upset the still mood of the tent. Outside, the world seemed muted and slow as if the noises struggled to filter through the thick canvas. Nasuada inclined her head gracefully but otherwise remained as a statue, still and watching.

Finally, she said, "My father used to speak highly of your parents, Drew Yorinsson. He said they did incredible things…he was most saddened when he heard of their deaths. He had hoped that you, their only child, had survived and would one day return. And now you have."

Drew nodded slowly, "Now I have, Lady."

"Why?"

"…Life as a ranger suited me well, Lady. But life avoiding the servants of the empire did not. I wish this land to be rid of tyranny so I may go back to my old life in peace."

"A wise answer for one so young, Drew."

Nasuada was starting to annoy Aalina. She seemed uptight and regal, even though she had no rights to the throne. She seemed masked and suspicious and sly – the perfect blend for a politician. And how Aalina hated politicians.

"I am not so young as you might think, Lady. Much older perhaps, than yourself? When the leaves begin to fall I will have seen eight-and-twenty years."

The dark-skinned woman cocked her head and smiled slightly, "Ah…then perhaps I was quick to judge your words…but tell me, who is this?"

Drew looked back at her briefly, "Her name is Merewen," He replied, using the name she'd given him when they'd first met.

Nasuada studied her thoughtfully and then called to her guard outside. A man came in and bowed deeply, "Lady Nasuada."

"Fetch Eragon, please…and Arya too, if you can. Tell them it's urgent," The man bowed again and retreated, "I'm afraid you'll have to let our Rider examine your minds…it's the only way we can be sure you are who you say you are."

Aalina stilled and looked to Drew in askance, but though she knew he had felt her alarm he did not show it. There was a rustle as the tapestry behind Nasuada moved and a child no more than three or four appeared from behind it. She moved with an alien grace and the sign of the Riders blazed brightly on her forehead. Now that she was out in the open Aalina felt a strange presence in the tent with them…like a mist around her mind that was a consciousness but not or so to speak. It did not scare her but she was…wary. On the other hand Nasuada seemed surprised that the girl had chosen to reveal herself.

"This is Elva," Was all she said in explanation.

Elva walked over to them and stopped in front of Aalina before giving a shallow curtsy. She couldn't tell whether the action was sarcastic or not.

"There is much wearying your mind," Elva stated. Her voice was deep – that of a fully grown adult woman, "You are young to have so many troubles."

Out of the corner of her eye Aalina saw Nasuada watching intently. She didn't like it one little bit.

"And you are young to have such a gift, Shining-Brow," Aalina replied cautiously.

"Younger than you know…and yet older with the troubles I feel from others," The girl smiled, revealing pointed teeth. Aalina felt a strange connection with the child, for both suffered with gifts that they had no choice but to bear.

"I know of what you speak," Aalina nodded slowly.

"Yes," Elva said simply, "You more than any before. I know you for I _am_ you…in a way. You have seen things that you should not know and it weights your soul even more so than the troubles you carry."

"And yet with all my power I have not seen you," Aalina cocked her head.

Elva smiled again, "Perhaps you will now," And then she turned and walked away, ignoring both Nasuada and Drew, back behind the tapestry. Aalina watched her go with a faint sense of companionship.

Just as the girl disappeared the guards outside announced the arrival of: "Eragon Shadeslayer, Lady Arya and Angela the Herbalist!"

The tent flap moved aside and four people walked in…or should that be three people and one cat. Said cat moved immediately over to Aalina and began rubbing itself on her legs and purring contentedly. Everyone watched it for a moment with a faint look of surprise which then turned to curiosity when they looked at her.

"Eragon, Arya…Angela…and Solembum, of course," Nasuada greeted the new comers, "Meet Drew Yorinsson and Merewen. They have come to join the Varden but I need one of you to search their minds."

"Drew Yorinsson," The tall woman with dark hair murmured, "I was sorry to hear of your parents' passing," On closer inspection Aalina saw that her eyes were slanted…she must have been an elf.

Drew inclined his head in acceptance of her words. The cat (which she assumed was Solembum) gave another purr and started to weave in and out of the gap between her legs.

The young man with brownish hair that looked to be only just into manhood spoke next, "Thank you for coming to join our cause," His words were sombre for one so young and his face blanked for a few seconds before he spoke again, "Saphira says she would like to meet you."

She wasn't sure who that last comment was directed at but she assumed that this…man (if she could call him that)…was Eragon 'Shadeslayer', the Dragon Rider giving the king so much grief, and that 'Saphira' was the Blue Dragon he was partnered with.

"We would be honoured," Drew assured him. Aalina remained silent.

"But first I'll need to search your minds," Eragon continued, "Are you prepared?"

Drew said that they were and then the Rider closed his eyes and for a few minutes all was still. Aalina knew that he would find the memory of their meeting and discover who she really was, but there was nothing she could do. They all waited until Eragon opened his brown eyes and watched Drew with a strange expression on his face.

"Well?" Nasuada pressed, irritating Aalina even further, "Is he to be trusted?"

Eragon gave a slow nod and then turned to Aalina. The look in his eyes told her that he knew who she was, "Your turn."

She stared back blankly, trying to figure out what his game was. The first tendrils of his consciousness tickled her mental barriers gently, and she felt as though he was trying to tell her he meant no harm. Slowly, she lowered her walls and allowed him in – but was ready to slam them back up at the slightest provocation. He was gentle as he looked around, touching a few of her memories and feeling both surprised and intrigued. She knew that he was being deliberately cautious with her and he felt uncertain as to what to do. He knew who she was but he also knew that she had run away and meant to harm. In return she began to feel his mind. It was strangely familiar to her – like looking into a kind of mirror. His mind felt not quite human, and not quite elfin…just like hers. But his mind didn't sing like hers did. Somewhere in the back of it all she felt another mind (which she guessed was the Dragon Saphira) watching over her Rider and making sure that Aalina didn't do anything to hurt him.

After a while he withdrew and left her alone in the quiet once more. They watched each other intently, and then Eragon turned to Nasuada, "Neither is your enemy. They mean no harm and wish to join the Varden. Their intents are true."

Nasuada smiled fully for the first time, "Then they shall be given tents."

* * *

Half an hour later Aalina was left in a small, grey tent. The only furniture was a single bed with a rough looking sheet over it, but she didn't care. It was sheltered and quiet. She put her weapons on the mattress and dug a shallow hole in the ground with magic for a fire pit should she need one later. The cat Solembum had followed her and was now sitting cleaning his fur by the entrance. She sensed there was something more to him than met the eye but decided not to press the issue just yet.

"Hello Eragon," She said pleasantly, turning around and facing the young man who had just entered the tent silently. He stood watching her with a slight frown, one hand on the pommel of his sword for security.

"Hello," He said, "Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"


	15. Chapter 15 - Advice

**Author's Note: Sorry about the wait, I'm struggling to write both my fics at the moment! If you have time, I would really appreciate you going onto my profile and reading my other fic. It's only four chapters long at the moment and I really wanna hear what you guys think! Anyway, in this chapter we get to know Aalina a little bit more and meet Saphira for the first time! Our Dragoness has a lot to say!**

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"When the leaves begin to fall I will see the beginning of my nineteenth year. My father – as you now know – was the Rider Kialandí, and my mother was a Seer by the name of Oreute. I do not know when or how they met, or even how long they were together before I was born. My parents were not married – for marriage is not an elven custom as you are aware – but he must have loved her a great deal, for children are precious to elves and my father would not have lain with her just to satisfy his lust. However, when my mother was only a few months pregnant something went wrong and my father was killed. Galbatorix blamed my mother for his death and though she was valuable as a Seer he was preparing to kill her in revenge before she told him of her pregnancy. She was locked away under the castle and I was born around nine months later in the year 7983 AC. Up until a few weeks ago I was led to believe that Oreute died in childbirth, but now I am certain than Galbatorix had her killed. I was raised by wet nurses and trained in magic and fighting but apart from that, I was left alone. When I turned sixteen I began to get dreams of the past, present and future – just as my mother before me. Galbatorix valued me highly for in all those years he had not found another Seer to replace her, so my new job was to keep him informed of the things I saw.

"Things worked well for a couple of years but shortly after I hit my eighteenth birthday I began to feel bored and imprisoned. Although I often asked to be allowed out of the castle I was rarely permitted, and always with guards…it was a miserable existence. I started to garner unpleasant feelings and my dreams turned more and more violent. In the end I asked Murtagh for a way to escape, but Galbatorix was watching me, and after punishing me with magic he sent me away to an estate and kept me isolated. After only a few days there I accidently started a fire through magic and while Murtagh was trying to put it out I escaped. I stole a horse and rode as fast as I could. I met Drew a few days later and he took me here…he said I would be safe.

"I know I am supposed to be your enemy and having me here is a danger to you, but the Varden is supposed to be a sanctuary to all those in need of shelter from the Empire and those who oppose it. Although I may not specifically oppose the Empire, I need to hide from the King. If I am recaptured I don't know what he will do…

"Eragon. You have seen into my mind – something I have let only a few others do before you. You have seen my honest intent and you know I do not lie. I will not betray you to the Empire and though you have every right to arrest me and have me killed, I pray you will not."

Aalina finished her story and gazed down at her pale hands, fuzzy in the dim light of the tent. Earlier she had lit a fire in the pit and cast a spell to prevent unwelcome ears hearing that which they should not. Then she had sat on the edge of the bed and revealed the truth as he deserved rightly. She had told him fact and only fact – there was no room for emotion here. She felt him shift from where he was stood and knew he was ready to pass judgement on her for a life she had no choice in living.

"Do you want to know why I said nothing to Nasuada back there?" He didn't pause for her answer, "It was because the second I found who you were in Drew's mind…I saw Murtagh in you. The way you met each other was remarkably similar to the way I met him – and though your journey was not nearly as fraught with trouble as ours, you too decided to accompany him to the Varden. Your life and his – perhaps because you are both children of the Forsworn – are reflections of each other in a way. When Murtagh arrived at the Varden he too bore the burden of his heritage. I did not judge him for that and I will not judge you."

She looked up into his face and saw not the boy that she had before…but someone wise beyond their years. His face was graceful as an elf's but his eyes shone with a fire – a burning will to defy the king and rid the land of poison.

"This war has aged you, Eragon Shadeslayer. You speak of things with a wisdom that you should not possess."

He inclined his head, "Perhaps…but wisdom is not wisdom if it is ignored when thrust upon you. But that does not help us here. I will agree to keep your secret – though I fear for the consequences when it comes out – if you will agree to fight for us and earn your keep."

She paused, giving thought to his words. It was only fair that he should ask her to earn her keep, but she had a knowledge that she felt should not be shared with others.

"I will fight _with _you, Eragon Shadeslayer, not _for _you. And the things that I dream: be it present, past or future, I will not tell. Those things are for me and me alone to know."

He blinked once, and then replied, "Very well. There is someone I would like you to meet."

She nodded smoothly and stood, brushing off her dress and motioning for him to lead the way. They stepped outside and into the mid-afternoon sun, squinting a little as the light hit their sensitive eyes. Her horse had been led away earlier by a young boy who promised it would be taken care of. She was a little pensive to see him being taken away because it meant one less thing she was familiar with. People were still milling about here and there but they were mostly too busy to pay any mind. One or two hailed their Rider with a cry of: 'Ho, Shadeslayer!" To which Eragon always smiled and replied in kind.

He led her to a large clearing in the tents and stood waiting silently. It was only half a minute before a huge blue shape swept over the camp and landed neatly in front of them. Several people nearby shied away from Saphira in fear, but Aalina only leant forwards in curiosity. The other dragons she had seen were male, and she was eager to see the difference.

The dragon Saphira had shining blue scales ranging from a deep, ocean blue to a pale, sky blue. They were all cleaned and sparkling brilliantly, showing that Saphira was not afraid to be seen by her enemies. Two white canines protruded from her upper jaw and curved down, ending in sharp points. Her wings, now folded smartly against her side were thin and translucent. When Saphira was in flight the sun filtered through gently, giving a blue glow around them. Her body was somewhat thinner and less muscled than Thorn and Shruikan, but for some reason she looked all the more powerful for it. She doubted there was any way that Saphira could compete with Shruikan on account for the black dragon's hulking size, but she was far better looking. In fact, Aalina would go as far as to say that Saphira was beautiful.

A large, sapphire eye blinked with the noise of a pebble dropping, and then Aalina felt a conscience that was an entirely separate entity from Eragon's press against her mind. She let the dragon in cautiously – and only so far so that they could converse. No further.

_Greetings, Far-seer, _said Saphira in a gentle tone.

_Greetings, Saphira Adurnaskular*, _Aalina replied amiably. She sensed a faint curiosity emanating from the blue dragon, but she did not enquire to it.

_Eragon has told me of your story. He did not say but he feels life has been unkind to you, Far-seer. You have travelled far to reach us here but you will be glad in the end. We cannot make promises but you will be safe within the Varden, I think._

_Thank you, Adurnaskular, your words hearten me. It is not easy knowing that there is a doom upon your return home – although I do not think the word 'home' is fitting for Urû 'baen._

_Perhaps not, _rumbled Saphira with a hint of amusement.

_Adurnaskular?_

Saphira blinked again and lowered her head so that it was level with Aalina, _Yes?_

…_I feel I needs must ask your advice._

_Ask if you wish – I cannot guarantee you an answer of any worth._

…_For my whole life I have had little to feel any discerning emotion over. My existence has been either boredom, or not boredom. As an elf too it is not common for mortal things to be of worth. And so it has been for me…but since the beginning of this year for me I have felt emotions such as I have not before. True emotions like anger and despair – and once perhaps even fear. I have never felt before, Adurnaskular, and it hurts. There are things I know now I wish I did not and I want to go back but I cannot, for all of my worth, remember how to shut out feelings._

_There is no easy solution to your troubles, little Far-seer. It does not do to shut out your emotion else you will become something that should not be. Know this though: not all emotions are bad. The things you have felt: anger, despair, fear…they are one side of a coin yes, but not the whole. There is also happiness, hope and love. These are the things you must strive for to make the bad feelings become redundant. Concentrate on what is making you feel the negative emotions and work to eliminate them. Only then will the hurt cease. It is not an easy goal to achieve but it will be well worth the effort in the end. _

_Thank you, once again, Adurnaskular. I shall think upon your advice and work towards doing what you say. _

Saphira snorted a plume of smoke from each nostril, and then pushed her head forwards and touched Aalina on the brow gently with the end of her nose. A tingle ran through her whole body and her cells felt alive with energy. Then the feeling was gone and she was left exhausted and weary once more.

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*Adurnaskular - Water scales.


	16. Chapter 16 - Angela

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews you've been giving me, they really make a difference. A lot of people read and don't review because they don't realise that you don't have to be a member to review - you can do it whoever you are! So please, after you've finished reading, tell me what you think.**

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Saphira raised her huge wings and drove them to the ground, driving herself away from the earth and wheeling into the sky with a grace unseen before. Aalina watched her go sombrely, feeling as though she had a mountain to climb in order to achieve what surely must be hers by right anyway: happiness.

Beside her, Eragon changed the weight onto his opposite foot and sighed, "I do not know what she said to you – she spoke to you and you alone. Whatever it was, do not throw her words aside. She may be young but she is wise."

Aalina nodded bode him farewell for the present. She wished to return to her tent and get all the rest that she could with her 'condition'. She strode away through the tents with her head held high, ignoring the glances from the curious Varden individuals. Her lavender skirt flapped annoyingly around her ankles and she resolved that since she was no longer on the run from soldiers, she didn't have to disguise herself. She would have to find herself some more suitable clothing for life on the road.

However, before she got far she caught sight of the curly haired woman that had been in Nasuada's tent with her before. She was sitting on the ground cross legged and working over some sort of small cauldron. A curious, purple smoke was rising from within and Aalina felt a niggle in the back of her mind, telling her to find out what it was. She sidled closer until she was standing right above the woman and her shadow cast her in darkness.

"Do you mind? You're blocking all the light!" The woman looked up, "Oh! It's you! Good. Sit, sit…I've been waiting for you," She motioned to the ground and then returned her attention to the cauldron.

Somewhat bemused, Aalina did as she was asked and settled herself as regally as she could in the dry dirt opposite the woman. She watched as various herbs were added along with mutters in the ancient language and stirs of the thin purple mixture inside. The tiny fire crackling under the cauldron provided a surprising amount of warmth. Absent-mindedly, Aalina picked at the sparse blades of yellow grass sticking hopefully through the dirt in front of her. They were easily pulled up completely, having little or no roots to prevent them. She twirled them between her fingers, watching them as they wobbled and twisted. Each blade was short and thick like a rod and soon she was peeling them apart and examining the insides: they were sticky like sap and shiny. Her sharp eyes could see tiny veins running up and down to carry the little nutrients or water around – she remembered vaguely that these were called Xylem and Phloem. After she had finished looking at the insides, Aalina knotted them all together as best she could and created a circle, which she then laid out on the ground.

"Audr," She spoke, embedding the word with magic. The ring of grass rose smoothly until it was level with her chest, "Flauga," With a flick of her finger the ring floated away, spinning slowly as it did. The ring would fly forever – it took the energy it needed from the plants below. Wherever there was life it could fly.

She realised the woman had been finished for a long time and had been watching her with a strange look in her eyes. Unwilling to explain herself, Aalina simply shrugged.

" Fricai onr eka eddyr," The woman spoke in the Ancient Language. _I am your friend. _Then she took the cauldron – which appeared not to burn her skin – and poured the liquid inside into a shallow cup and handed it to Aalina, "Fricai onr eka eddyr," She repeated.

Aalina blinked at her, and then raised the cup to her lips and drank. The liquid was still warm and had a sharp tang to it – similar to cranberry juice. She eagerly drained the cup and then handed it back.

Warmth spread through her slowly, pausing to fill up every part of her body from her scalp to the tips of her toes. Her muscles, tight from riding non-stop for the past days loosened and relaxed. Her vision, which had begun to flicker with fatigue of staying open for gods knew how many straight hours, resumed with full intensity. The headache that always plagued her when she refused to sleep and see the visions receded completely and her whole countenance improved.

Aalina smiled at the woman and reached over to take her hand in both of her own, "Eka elrun ono, seithr-elda." _I thank you, witch-(great praise)._

The curly haired woman smiled back. It was a small smile and there were hints of pity scattered on her face, but the expression was genuine and warm, "I am Angela the Herbalist," She said simply.

Aalina twisted her hand over her sternum in the elven gesture of respect and greeting. It was the first time that she had ever used it. Never before had she felt the need to honour another person.

"You need not tell me your name – for I already know of you, Aalina. I wish to help you."

"How?" Aalina asked about both statements.

"I know many things," Angela replied, "Things that are supposed to remain secrets. You were one of those secrets – but do not fear I will give you away. I can help you in several ways: the first I have already done. The second, I believe is something you have been searching for since you turned sixteen: a way to sleep without dreaming."

Aalina nodded slowly, hardly daring to believe that this witch could help her.

"Do you have something…a pendant, a ring?"

Aalina started to say 'no', but then she remembered the necklace that Drew had bought her and she pulled it out, "I cannot take it off for it stops Galbatorix from scrying me."

Angela bobbed her curls, "No matter."

For the next few minutes Angela set about making another poultice – this time with green fumes. Then she had Aalina hold the leaf charm over the smoke and chanted in the Ancient Language for nearly ten minutes before sitting back with a pleased expression.

"Is it done?" Aalina asked tentatively.

"Yes," Angela said, "It worked well if I say so myself. As long as you sleep with this pendant around your neck you will not be plagued by visions unless they are very powerful. The energy will have to come from you so I put in a ward to cut off the magic if the energy it would take would be beyond reasonable boundary. Only the strongest of dreams will you see now. Ones that the elements believe are necessary for you to see – visions of loved ones getting hurt for example."

Aalina was silent for a long time. She gazed upon Angela's face, wrapped up in the turmoil of thoughts that swirled around her head. A weird sense of peace descended upon her and for the first time she felt eager to sleep. She wanted to sleep and rest like she used to, before she was always tired and before her mind grew weary of the hurt that came with emotion. The events of late had set her in a pensive mood and at times she wondered how she would ever break free of its confines. When she had been imprisoned (for that was how she saw it) in the estate with Murtagh, her moods had been so low it was all she could do not to wallow in her despair. After their argument, Murtagh had left her in a state of shock.

"…_And you evidently do __not __understand the fact that no, your body is not yours. It never has been. It belongs to the king – just like the rest of you. And one day, no matter how much of a proud elf you are, he will sell you to the highest bidder to make a good alliance for his army. Then, when your husband dies an old man, he will take you back and sell you to someone else. Forever. Because I don't know if you know this: but that's how long you'll live for...__"_

His words echoed around her head. She no longer belonged the king. She was no longer bound to a fate of endless life with endless despair. She was no longer forced to dream of blood and pain.

She placed on hand flat upon the ground and spread her fingers wide, digging them slightly into the dirt: "Roz…" She murmured gently, using the magic to guide a seed pod called a 'hip' to the surface and into her hand. Then she started to sing to it.

"Eldhrimner, O Roz, nuanen, dautr abr deloi,

Eldhrimner nen ono weohnataí medh solus un thringa,

Eldhrimner un fortha onr fëon vara,

Wiol allr sjon."

Over and over again she sang the verse, while the seed pod quivered and sprouted thick roots. Wooden branches inched upwards and outwards and leaves began to sprout. Her strength was drained but she was so strong that it did not take a toll on her. When she stopped a tiny rose bush sat in her hand, complete with four white roses.

She gave the bush to Angela with the words:

"I give you not one flower, Seithr-elda, but four – that will forever grow into more until the end of days. Such is my gratitude. Atra du evarínya ono varda, Angela-elda. Atra du evarínya ono varda un atra esterní ono ono thelduin. Atra guliä un ilian tauthr ono. Eka elrun ono wiol allr sjon, Angela-elda nuanen. Eka thorta du ilumëo, Svit-Seithr."

_May the stars watch over you, Angela-(great praise). May the stars watch over you and may good fortune rule over you. My luck and happiness follow you. I thank you for all to see, beautiful Angela-(great praise). I speak the truth, honoured-witch. _

She extended her consciousness to Angela, and without asking to be allowed into the woman's mind, she impressed upon her the depth of her gratitude and the depth of the weight that had been lifted from her.

Angela took the bush and hid it away in her robes.

"Fricai onr eka eddyr."

She repeated.


	17. Chapter 17 - Future

**Author's Note: In this chapter we get a little more information about Aalina's future...enjoy!**

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The werecat Solembum appeared from between the tents and padded over to where Aalina sat. He had left her tent when Eragon had arrived and demanded answers and had not returned since. He eyed her cheekily and then climbed into her lap, purring. A consciousness that was not Eragon's or Saphira's or Angela's gently asked for admittance. Solembum looked up at her with orangey-red eyes and blinked until she understood it was him.

_Greetings, Solembum-Werecat, _she spoke with her mind. Solembum's cheeks swelled out in what she was sure was a catty smile. She started stroking him gently, enjoying the feel of his fur through her fingers. It was silky and clean and the vibrations of his purrs trembled through her skin.

_Far-seer. _His greeting was short and definitely punctuated, _Your presence pleases me. _

_I am glad._

_Yes. _He said, and they spoke no more.

Angela passed her eyes over the duo. She gave Aalina a very searching gaze, and then nodded, as if confirming something to herself. She cleared away the cauldron – storing it somewhere out of sight of Aalina though she wasn't sure where – and the settled with her hands in her lap.

"Solembum likes you," She stated.

"Yes." Went Aalina.

"He spoke to you when he does not reveal himself to anyone save me usually. This has only ever happened three times before. Once was to an old beggar, once was to a woman, and once to a young boy who turned out to be Eragon. And now to you."

Aalina said nothing. She chose instead to listen and absorb what she was being told while stroking Solembum in a steady rhythm. She found it soothed both him and her.

"To all three I offered a particular talent of mine: I offered to tell their futures. Only the woman and Eragon agreed – and while only the woman I think regretted it, both were full of darkness and struggle. I offer it now to you too. Think carefully upon your answer."

Aalina dropped her gaze from the curly haired witch to the werecat in her lap. His eyes were closed contentedly and his tail flicked now and again when she brushed a particularly ticklish patch in her stroking.

_Do I want to know my future?_ She wondered. While she had seen the fortunes of many lives, the short-coming of a Seer was that they could never see their own. She had no idea what lay ahead for her. Would the Varden find out about her heritage? Would Murtagh and Thorn capture her and take her back to Urû 'baen? Would she achieve the goal Saphira advised for her?

Suddenly she felt afraid. For nearly three years she had seen the product of the future – as well as those of the past and present. However while recently her dreams had been filled with gore and violence they had not always been so – at least, not all of the time. Sometimes she had seen happy things: weddings, children – even the dream-child that had suddenly left her side.

_Not all futures are filled with blood._

She looked back at Angela, "Nen ono weohnata." _Do what you will. _

The herbalist smiled and reached into her robes once more. This time she brought out a velvet pouch the colour of midnight. She loosened the strings and tipped the contents into her hand before laying out an embroidered cloth on the floor.

"These," She explained, holding out her hand for Aalina to inspect, "Are the knuckle bones of a dragon."

Aalina looked and saw several thin bones, each slightly longer than a finger. Down their sides were various black symbols that she could not interpret and they seemed to emit a kind of aura.

"I won't tell you how I got them, but unlike tea leaves and tarot cards they hold true power. They are difficult to read, however. It may take a few minutes."

Then she tossed the bones onto the cloth crying three words in the Ancient Language that rang in Aalina's ears longer than they should have. The bones fell with a clatter and all was quiet (relatively, for the Varden still bustled around them) while Angela bent over and studied them. It took so long that Aalina was afraid the bones had failed or that they were too complicated that Angela could not read them, but then the curls bobbed and Angela looked up.

"I was able to garner quite a lot from these, Far-seer. I will start…here," She pointed to a bone on the left. It had a diagonal line with a circle engraved on the side, "Eternity or long-life. I cannot say which but it has only come up in someone's future once before."

Aalina stared at the symbol and tried to get it to give up its secrets but nothing happened.

_Long-life or eternity. That can either be good or ill I suppose, depending on the life I lead. _

Angela continued, pointing to a bone showing a triangle that look for all the world like an eye, "Here, the three-sided eye. It shows you will have a three-dimensional knowledge: You will know everyone, you will know yourself and you will bear the burden of the knowledge of those to come."

_I'm a seer! Is this only going to tell me things I already know?_

"This is the first time I have ever seen this symbol appear. Here," She moved to another bone, this time it was a simple black cross, "Is Death. Not just death, but the dimension in which souls wander. You will know those who are already gone."

Well that was news to her. _I will talk with the dead? _Somehow the idea didn't seem too appealing.

"This," Continued the herbalist, indicating another bone, "Is turmoil."

The bone in question was a circle with a jagged line through the middle.

_Oh._

"This shows you will have great struggle in your life. You will witness great suffering and you will take part in many battles. You fill witness bloodshed and you will create it. The sights and experiences you will have will stay with you forever, and it will be difficult to accept them."

_Not all futures are filled with blood…but it is inevitable that mine shall have more than its fair share._

"Finally, this:" Angela indicated the last bone. A single circle was etched into the surface, "Peace. Peace shows that at some point in your life: be it middle or end or in between or all, you will achieve a great inner peace. You will be happy and content and you will be satisfied with the things you have done. This will be a great revelation to you and not easily forgotten."

_How can I have both turmoil and peace? It doesn't make sense…_

They sat in silence for a long while, and then Angela gathered up the bones and the cloth and put them away. Solembum the werecat got up without warning and padded away, his consciousness fading from her mind slowly – though she didn't doubt for one minute that he wouldn't be back.

"I have both good and bad ahead," Aalina mused aloud, "But I am not so foolish as to feel either happy or unhappy about this. It is how it is, and in time all things will come to pass."

Angela twisted her lips in a wry smile, "Wise words, älfa-kona."

They sat for a few seconds more, and then Aalina stood, twisting her hand over her sternum and leaving with a murmured farewell. She made her way to her tent, ignoring her surroundings and only intent upon collapsing on her bed and sleeping.

The tent was dark in the late afternoon sun and she slipped inside gratefully. The fire had smouldered out in the time she had been away but it was comfortably warm and she settled down easily, closing her eyes.

**That night, she slept dreamlessly for the first time in three years.**


End file.
